Mountains of stone in the tall lunar highlands
They cannot conquer me, nor surpass my size
The blush of an iris in the bleach of the summer
It cannot forge the hue of my wide purple tide


And though I am changing, these thrifts they will find me
On the wandering plains of another gone year
Where seven young babies will float all around me
And turn in a parallel and all disappear

The long mirror of time
The long mirror of time
Its sculpted crystal passage is not genuine
The long mirror of time
The long mirror of time
Reveals the prism faces but not mine


The emperors wait there in the face of the future
And I am here folding in a firm yellow rose
They know these indulgences but know not the hollowed orb
My softest armor dawns in ragged old clothes


And it cannot harm them, their many medicines
Dug from the extract of cold shattered time
What was the mountain, the marvel now manifests
In streams of wild radiance for melodious minds


The long mirror of time
The long mirror of time
Its sculpted crystal passage is not genuine
The long mirror of time
The long mirror of time
Reveals the prism faces but not mine

The mountain of stone is the blush of the iris
Although I am changing with all unborn faces
The summit is waiting to carry me over it


The foot of the horse, the whip of the foul
The foot of the horse, the whip of the foul
The foot of the horse, the whip of the foul

The mirror of time is reflecting me now
The mirror of time is reflecting me now