The surface of a stone   Is gray and dead   And dry as bone      For children climbing, for weather molding      No one takes time to look below   To see the beauty in the mold   The insects thriving      Turn me over, turn me over   I dont want to die alone   Dust in earth and dry (as bone)      Look me over, look me over   I'll die happy if you know   My underside is beautiful      Within the confines of my stone   My mind is warm, my heart is cold   And I've been finding my love declining      The god-shaped void is never full   Wine, song and women flood my skull   A bell is chiming, come home