Hey now so wait for I

Liken it unto a little boy
Ninety-two in father sky
Liken it unto a fat man
Who ate the god of those who die

From paper
From out of fire
They move in ashen colors
A stone will
Awake the watcher
If he should tire of duty

Now there were
So many others
Now there was time to fold them
Each of them
Those many others
Each of them hangs in a cool and glowing breeze

Skyline, high-line, higher than my line
Einstein in a prime-time timeline
With his face drippin' over a clothes-dry line
Like a fish at the end of a nylon line
The fine line shines like a benign line
Reminding my mind to find a kind kind of crime
Designed to decline like a spine intertwined with mankind
Blind to the divine defined line

A thousand souls to light a fire
A thousand fires to light the world
And from each fire, for the world, a monument:
A thousand paper cranes

And the son was the father
And the father was the son
And if the stars were a cloud of eyes
Then they would see what had been done
They would know their little brothers
The implosion and the gun
And they would turn their gaze so far away from here
To a place much farther than the sun

Now there were
So many others
Now there was time to love them
Each of them
Those many others
Each of them hangs in a cool and glowing breeze, in a cool and glowing breeze

From fire
From out of paper
They move in anguished colors
If stones could
Awake the watchers
When they cry and die so high up in the sky

Freedom! Freedom!
Element'ry marriage of alike sets helps the divorce of another pair
Over in the corner of a dangerous swan
Could it be? Could it be? Is it all undone?
Relapse! Relapse!
Testimony -- Phillips, is it time yet?
Take a new -- cut me -- harpoon
Underneath the -- listen to it, everything they say:
"New world! New world out of yesterday"

Breathe soft and wait for me
Stand light, or could it be?
Run, faster!
Breathe hard and run away
Stand bright in disarray
Die with me

Senbazuru

Liken it unto a little boy
Ninety-two in father sky
Liken it unto a fat man
Who ate the god of those who die
Hey now so wait for I
Stay now

Silence
Nowhere
Knows its
Place there
Sounding on and on and echo on

In memoriam mundus

Out of, out of grace, of grace I
Dwelling, dwelling deep within you
Destroy darkness born of hatred
With the, with the shining lamp of
Shining lamp of knowledge

Sweet time to build an atom bomb from mem'ries of an Oppenheimer dream
Dissolved in a fire of gifts fit for a king, then reassembled like a warm machine
Sweet time to build an atom bomb from mem'ries of an Oppenheimer dream…