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Leave me I’m a man of sand.
The wind will wash away my hands.
I’m a dry statue to be swept away
when the tide returns and ends this day.

Mold me I’m a man of mud.
The wet soil will be my blood.
I’m a knotted figure mad of earth
so let my death be your birth.

Cut me I’m a man of ice.
On this cold cold night I am filled with vice.
A frozen monument of powdered snow.
I’ll be melting slowly under spring times glow.

Forge me I’m a man of steel.
The metal man that never kneels.
I’m a ridged testament that you can trust
to guard the past as it turns to rust.

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