I sit in my wooden box

and feel the edges damp and rough

the rain that falls upon the roof

is leaking down my back.

Everyone inside their rooms

but no one wants to play

the words with which we made up things

aren't working any more.

An open space where no one lives

we are strangers in this land

In the wet season on a light blue sky

and then no more.

I heard the old wobbly man say

one by one we drop hey hey

and all that’s good will drift away

like the waters down…down…down.