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My sweetheart and I will retire, |
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Will retire to the tide pools. |
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And we'll fix our meals of crabs and krill in the long afternoon. |
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And we'll shed our skin, |
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For a shell from a wise old snail who is singing: |
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Slow down. |
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At the base of the dunes with the algae bloom and the heron, |
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Here we sit all day and wait and wait for the tide to come crashing. |
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And we'll shed our skin because we know where it's been, |
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And we know this hymn: |
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Slow down. |
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Lost, lost, in this torrent, |
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Drowned in the deep of this over-sweet porridge, |
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Blind to to all of the blood and carnage. |
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Slow down. |
