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