Someone is calling her shorewards
Much like horses
Raising dogs will sing to me

Hold back the tears in [bad word] 
We move forwards
In these pauses the storm corrodes

Maps of a lift to the scaffold
On a nursery floor
Begs aloud not to stay

Cut from the stone in the quarry
This old friend of mine
In his silence the stone corrodes

Passed on the second hand slips outwards
Born in the curve the song drips endless
Thrown out the boy believes the secret
Grown up the dogs begin to reach it