all that you know
you hold in your hands
half learning
half building a burden
you then have to
learn to let go
 
 
this hologram plan
this heart is our bell
these surrogate centuries beg us to tell
 
the way that you pause
before touching the wall
these surrogate centuries waiting to fall
 
I promised you silver
in aluminum flight
you looked down on Greenland and sat frozen in white
 
this hologram plan
this heart is our bell
these surrogate centuries beg us to tell
 
this parliament loves you
like the edge of the stone
these surrogate centuries we hold as our own
 
 
[The usual way I know how to stop working on a song is that there's no room for any more words. This time I tried to do it differently. Although I guess in the end I mainly accomplished this by piling up the singing bits on top of each other instead of laying them end-to-end. But that's kind of a thing, so OK. Assembled on the way to Iceland, tweaked there in a haze within sight of the Alþingi, finished back in Boston upon return.]