I am jealous of the gear that lost the dusk
The turning days never had a future
Three shields per bottle
The retail sale of souls
Just enough for one mouthful in a meal
Amber, amber, yet another amber for enrichment
The stars in the hometown are never on time
Wind, wind, another wind howls as a hawk
The evening light tolls
And takes away the stone pier with nowhere to go in Rivet Town
Shackles applied, on a moist heart
How could it be measured in kilograms
Yet another stone statue stands at the start of the mine shaft
The mining machines sculpt the pattern of its own trousers
Passersby all say
It's so foolish