They sing songs in monotones

Ducking downward, dodging stones

Settle down to where they're thrown

They tote along

They slow things down

Stretching outward island grown

Indigenous in mobile homes

They tote along

With all their bones inside them

The barbershop remains

Black oval lakes

For flowing outward

Flowing outward

Shall you go like flames go out?

Like tumbling water?

Sing your songs for holy mountains

Go inside now, the war is over

Found a pearl and a four leaf clover

The haven't-been-much are understated

Kicking out with the overrated ones

Sooner or later gone

Go inside, go inside

Stretching outward island groan

Living in quite mobile homes

Gone inside