We wrestle with foundations reckless fate

has foisted on our sacred temple sites.

Surveyors show reluctance to proceed.

We pay no heed, obliterate the nights

with paint and canvas, microphone and tape,

with pen and paper, clapperboard and screen,

lay 'would have loved' and 'never did' for bricks,

mix 'still to be' for mortar in between

and if our walls should crumble to the ground,

we shan't forget we shared a pretty dream.