We live in a world of things
A world that has never been

Tansys are spheres
And white firs are cones
And St John's Wort is made of circles

And the moon is rising in the readings of the one
And the moon is rising in the darkness
And the moon is rising in the readings of the one
And the moon is rising in the darkness of the sun

Tansys are no spheres
And white firs no cones
And St John's Wort is not made of circles

The darkness of the night sky
Is the transience of the universe