The sun rises with no sound, and broadcasts only the required amounts. And as it ensouls the lake, we see a small puff of smoke from far away. It's a Great Laker, pink in the rising sun, dropping off something. A big freighter, pink on the horizon, it's picking up something. The sun leaves the day denounced and broadcasts only the entire amount. As four apples wash ashore, we look out and there, we see some more. There's a Laker, pink in the setting sun, dropping off something. The moon comes up big and round and broadcasts only its small amounts. We're no good but we're organized, we look out and there, on the lake's a light. A great Laker's light, if it's showing green, it's dropping off something. If it's showing red - coming from the right, out of the west, into the night, on the working lake, moving with the wind - it's picking up something. Our beautiful due, our hearts open wide, just me and you, fourteen inside, standing by the lake, faces to the wind, picking up something.