Kissed and sharp teeth know a thing they do
About the things they gotta do
And then her feet get to run around
When they're enough her to the coldest ground
Closed and sharp piece when another guy
Tell you how to find the cold blue sky
And then you sing for the photograph
When we hold alive the things are past
Always, always arriving, oh, to mashing, to following past
Always, always arising, never endless hard piece of the last