When the roots of the tree

Are as cold as can be

When the wind in the sea

Are the moth meets the bee

When the rays of the sun

Lick your skin with its tongue

And the grass with its green

And the grass with its green

And the shine with its sheen

And the shine with its sheen

And the trains with their tracks

And the spines with their backs

And your sway with its slow

And the wind with its blow

And your scream with its soul

I don't play rock n roll

And the people with their lungs

And the people with their paws

If the sky were a stone

Made of lips

Made of bones

Count my teeth

To keep the time