Oh chariot of insect
Oh crowd of wind
Two royal leopards run with him

On a golden lead of tapered vine
Oh the blood sky, oh the blood sky
Vine of a god running wild

Oh golden seed who made the winged child

Run, run my little one

Run out to the sea
Run, run my little one
What do you seek?


The canvas is high
The scheme of a life

Written in the wind
The pen, the knife


Run my little one
Breathe a hymn
Breathe my little one

A hymn to him
To him


The master is calling, calling
The canvas is high
The scheme of a life

Written in the wind
The pen, the knife


Run, run out to sea
Run my little one
What do you seek


If you were his eyes
If you were his dreams

The whole of the sky could not contain you
So run, run, run out to sea
Run my little one

Breathe a hymn for him
For thee