Текст песни The Books - Getting The Job Done

ear to the ground i sift through
piles of falling letters
copying keys roll down my sleeves
a part of the hanging garden
of the city
downtown the sounds of single
people doing nothing

nose to the wall i follow
paths of tiny fissures
falling trapeze, the japanese
are watching the garden growing
on an island
surround the mound and run your
fingers through the filings