Dents and austere shards upon the range,
A mottled mountain crammed into a cup,
Lines go soft and faces flatten as the clay,
In time a spoon, great gaia's thrall,
Grinds the mottled mountain to a dome,
Then to a cardboard cavity amidst,
A throng of friends worn down to cups the same.

The lights of far-off spaces,
Washing streets and steel fireplaces,
Dipping marbles in the hue,
Bringing out their winking blue,
Licking gold on bygone planets,
Washing out the slabs of granite,
The lights of far-off spaces,
Glow bright crown jewels of nature's faces,
These eyes and mirrors of glory beyond.

The waahwaah tree,
Stands dignified in the jungle of its melody,
Pastel fragments of light step between existence and non-existence,
Playing like fairies on the singing winds,
And adding flashes of flavour to the flowing melody,
All is like a dream,
The shadows too bright and the lines blurred and fuzzy,
Wrapping up the marshmallow clouds in softer blankets of fluffy uncertainties,
The land seems to fall through and stand firm,
As the whirring waahwaah contextualises the floating footing.