Angle Of Repose

I am made of tons of tiny countries
With closely guarded borders
Each country has a castle
Each castle has a throne
You are the tiny king
Of your very own.

I sneak across at night
When the crossing is easy
I watch and I wonder
At your curious customs
But I forget them all by day.

Did the night invade the day?
Or was it day invaded night?
Were you among the last to be found?
Did you have your hands
In the ground?

I buried the dead and they came stories
I planted the stories, they came up singing
I planted the song and it came up dancing
I buried the dance and it
Came up facing home.

I buried the dead and they came laughing
I planted the laugher, it came up singing
I planted the song and it came up fighting
I buried the battle, it came up facing home.

I buried the dead and they came up laughing
I buried the laughter and cried.

This garden we've planted will come up around us
And take us all down in a great big avalanche
Of useless things, of persistently plastic things
Of things that cost us this tiny world of tiny kings.