The investment is itself the beat,

Locking the eyes and moving the feet;

You can’t remove an affliction

Of leaden caliber like this.

Sometimes I feel so far away;

Sometimes it’s so close to me,

This philosophy I hold so dear.

Every time I pass it by,

It never changes, never questions,

But eventually it will fall,

Before me or after, fall.

Lighting this track is a horizon.

Scoring this view is a sound.

Like a god, himself, torn into two, three:

The saddest rain of gold twisted,

Poured down and set on a broken cut.

Their dogs have chased them down.

Dead, dying old men abandoned, the trade.

The gothic sky hanging over,

You can’t remove this feeling,

Feeling my time pulling,

Time ticking, time screeching.

Trying to chase the sun,

I fell over the edge,

Passed under the united crushers,

Passed over my moving tomb,

Passed over where I was standing,

Over and over again.