Digging

I hold a shovel digging

The hole is past my knees

Trying to find novelty

In the repetition

In the repetition

After a day's work

Mud forms a mould

Tight round my waist

I'm stuck in place

For the dance of the night

For the dance of the night

At the next rise

Soil flings piles past

My shoulders tired

From the search

To the natural spring

To the natural spring oh