Everything you touch with your hand turns from flower,
Into sand, to man and
Leaf and tree and dreams of dreams.
There is nothing left to fear-
Only in his eyes there are tears.
He's been placing rocks in a circle there.
When the evening comes he'll set them down and
Go to sleep pretending you're around
With your leaf and tree and dreams of dreams and
Nothing left to fear.
Will the well keep pennies down at night?
Must the children go swim at high tide?
When the evening comes he'll write this down
For the air, that whispers you're around
With your leaf and tree and dreams of dreams.