To go to god with your unbending burdens Lands you in the pond with the fishes and the journeys, Melts the slope that dives to the road, Melts the groove that sends you aloof, Melts the stoop where you sleuth If you are flying in the sight Of the oldest people's towns, You are raised up to the height Of the perfect floating round And the last one living will abide, The last one living will divide And the last one living will decide And the last one living will be right Paint whirling feathers into flowing blows, Getting beating by the stream that flows below Get impressions of the bridge we tow across, Drive on out to go swimming in the big lusty river of rust Pointing voices at the mirrors and the roads That stand before us and slam us in the sloughs And the last one living will abide The last one living will divide And the last one living will decide And the last one living will be right