"Animals accomplished a lot
For everyone alive
So a tree will be
People accomplish nothing alive
As far as I can think, as far as I can think
I'm setting out today
I think useless isn't enough
I'm going to build a swoon skirt
That's one year to get on
And another to take off
Early sewing the morning together
With dead wood and scrub
The waist a coat of Bread strung
Hardened by drying soup and blood
Buckle and leg hide belts from
Left over hide from graves
Talking to the grave and grass
Soothing the buried's last prayers and pain
My entire set of plates and cups
Loudly clank ringing out
And old bird feet that drag down low
Touching the ground
On top of a ladder I've got to stand
To fix up the chest and button
The animals astound on oak cedar heaven
Will sound wood trumpets
The goats are dead
The goats are dead
The goads are dead
I will stick them on
Get myself needle and thread
And punch holes in a ring around
Their cured neck
Passing the year away
The best year I've ever known
This skin is a mast to which
The swoon skirt I've sewn."