The hollow light is still on the fields
Where the winter has warmed
And the snows have drained away
And the hunter's cry is still on the air
As the bullet flies home
And the heart that's pierced with it
Still is racing
Still is racing all alone
The silver shoals of the light in the deep
Brush the glittering skin
Where the great, dark body writhes
And the trembling jaw
The unfathoming sounds of leviathan, bound
As his heart, though weakening
Still is racing
Still is racing all alone, all alone
You are racing
You are racing alone
