The Millstone

Eyes and streets widen out
The stone skims over the ground
Some old cars crashing head on
No flames

You found the black old tree
And left your deep marks behind

The glowing fire and I can wait for a higher tide

Someone chopped the old black tree down
Fireworks bursting over the town
A knot of people moving slowly Watching the ground
And left your deep marks behind (those mountains)
Hard luck! The harvest is not what I was waiting for, for so long
And keep on following those stars We lose the way and fall apart
You left your deep marks behind (those mountains)
And I can wait the tide grows

The eleventh hour was the moment
When we gathered ending that wild-goose chase
The tide is coming over
From time to time I miss you against the millstone
Against the core I am entirely helpless you know