I found her watching reruns from the money of mummy,
But daddy confronted walls so innocent and fine,
That beneath the daughter of this ideal age was a party
So old and greater than merely wishes and mutton.
To do their bidding was the running of skies and rains within them,
The money had shone onto grass and sea together,
Waters ran into the hills of the air and sea,
The mountains were mounted by them,
The waters were rivers of summers and springs.
I have a good stock of the reruns,
And money is of mummy and daddy,
The rivers and seas cannot contain it,
Yet they dissolve into the hills, and when the dying
Has passed for eternity, the eternal questions arise.
The vivid life of a system shuns from the belief
You contain inside,
The beliefs are concentrated in our drinks
And money does not belong to us in the Hereafter.
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