You, with the moon, in the mirror
stiff at the sharpening stone
keeping the deepening dreamer
asleep in the shallow

Her, with the war, in the corner
ripping the pillows up slow
sending the feathers away with
the whispering snow

And I, in the wake of an angelfish,
float on my own
And I, in the shape of an avalanche,
quake in the cold
And I, in the shadow of everyone,
carry on slow
And I, at the end of a line,
toe it alone
I, at the end of a line,
toe it alone
I, at the end of a line,
toe it alone
He, with the hands of an answer,
stands at the edge of awake