|
Breaking the stone, |
|
A thousand years, an underfall. |
|
The water's edge is closer than you think, |
|
Surface tension falling as the air is taken in. |
|
Beneath the walls all light has gone, |
|
Like the passage of a mine whose seam is unknown. |
|
He worked each drift by hand alone, |
|
Sand and water and blood and stone. |
|
He hadn't much of a story to tell |
|
Just how he stopped the walls from falling. |
|
Making a stand made solid ground |
|
Two worlds apart, |
|
The people say their Sunday prayers. |
|
Music fills the vaulted space, |
|
The organ covers up the hammer falls. |
|
But the water's edge is closer than you think. |
|
You could see it in his staring eyes, |
|
The dripping shell, |
|
The lower parts of Hell are just beneath you. |
|
He hadn't much of a story to tell, |
|
Just how he stopped the wall from falling down. |
|
Making a stand made solid ground. |
