Gone from the house to the snows like a wandering light you send a last balloon to the solemn light of the moon's eye
Over the fields and the arcs of the radial lines that bind the waking world to the hidden life of the empire that sleeps in the frozen lakes and moors in the darkened bays and glows in the golden rays and dreams of us
That moves without sound through the air through the ground and that streams through each break carved in the line and dreams of us