We were looking at this tall wooden mast
Where the wind had swept across it for a thousand years.
It was scoured smooth as polished stone
Such a thing should rest on the bottom of the sea.
But the world has moved on, the world has moved on.
We were outside, and it was snowing
our footprints went over
a mountain and then were swallowed
up by a dark forest
We stood outside the house, but the world had moved on
The world had moved on.
Alone in an empty wasteland, you can hear a hawk cry from miles away
The sun beats down, the sun sets us on fire.
Parched, dying, alone: the world moved on.
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