He is gone, honey tongue, like
we crush music through a diamond
but he is gone to the milky lake
black time flooding through his
knowing him there is like water
hearing the wind like a dream
sleeping under a dream of water.
You know windís like time down
time put a stone in his road,
some hard sleep has got him now
and he only wants the sky, sky
he wants to be like easy rain
falling on a sad tiny road
one slow chain of broken music.