This
stone, this elegy of the son
And
weeping, did sleep as the mountain
Can
a page have dreams?
This
stone of son and man, weary
Here
I came to sleep
Can
a word have a child?
The
discontent of winter nears
And
I weep and dream in the machine
I
see steel in your bones, your future
Your
hand becomes my alchemy
Here
you come to sleep
Carbon
will bear witness
Is
mankind worth the word of metal?
So
weeping, I sleep as the seed
A
man is born of a son
And
made stone in time
Here
we came and slept
And
wept in an endless sea
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