Tell The Rabbits

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Pierce Moen

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Is there time in our words unspoken
Is there time in the hand I hold
Is there time beyond the clock's edges
How closely must we follow

Is there time in our words unspoken
Is there time in the hand I hold
Is there time beyond the clock's edges
How closely must we follow

Tell the rabbits, tell the hunters
Seasons have ended
They ought not be bothered
There comes a cold front
But there'll be no winter
How natural patterns so quickly splinter

And in our days, weeks, months, and years
How much longer must we keep to this ruse
That time will bestow us single-handedly
With all we expect it to

Dressed in wool, silks, cloths, and lace
We ready our vows to time
Such that in our frozen burrows we may
Find a warmth to endure the night
With three eyes to the both of us:
One to love, one to search yet, and one to check the clock
It is no wonder we've turned ritualistic
And can never get enough

If I've been here for a decade
If I've done this for a day
Is there any value in counting
Outside chronological faith
And time does us no favors
Hence time is not a tool
To choose to prolong one's suffering
Or to abandon measure at all

If I've been here for a decade
If I've done this for a day
Is there any value in counting
Outside chronological faith
And time does us no favors
Hence time is not a tool
To choose to prolong one's suffering
Or to abandon measure at all

Tell the rabbits, tell the hunters
Seasons have ended
They ought not be bothered

Tell the rabbits, tell the hunters
Seasons have ended
They ought not be bothered

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