Unobservable universe,
with all knowledge, illusion;
will you meet me in fevers,
and lucid delusions?

Will you frame my thoughts
in your concepts of God?
Would you allow me my slumber,
would you spare me the rod?

There is no mercy, nor divine retribution,
no cosmic ray, and static collision.
All that we own will turn into rust,
into the cracks of the Earth,
and beneath the crust.

Give me meditation,
and the fruits of the trees,
a town to return to,
to stretch out in ease.

I'll let this beard grow,
you'll take-out again,
we will sigh in our beds,
and play remember when.

There are no favours in a lifetime short,
there's no ambition, in attributes bought.
All that we left is now memory;
a fortunate fossil,
a bleak melody.