Verse 1
High in the emerald cathedral trees,
Where the rainforest hums in a slow green breeze,
A sloth hangs calm in a hammock of air,
With moss in the curls of his weathered hair.
He moves so slow that the forest grows
On the quiet path of the life he knows,
Green threads weaving across his back,
A living coat, a moving track.
And hidden there in the moss so soft,
Lives a tiny moth upon the sloth.
Small gray wings in the jungle shade,
Where a drifting world has slowly been made.
Chorus
In the moss, in the moss, where the green worlds grow,
Life moves quiet and life moves slow.
On the back of a sloth in the rainforest gloss,
Tiny moths ride rivers of moss.
What seems still is a world embossed—
A living planet in the sloth’s green moss.
Verse 2
The moth lays eggs where the warm fur grows,
In the drifting garden the sloth bestows.
Larva wake in the mossy maze,
In the forest of hair where the algae blaze.
They grow in the cradle of leaf and skin,
In the tiny wild ecosystem within.
The moths help feed the algae bright,
Bringing nutrients hidden from sight.
And the moss grows thick on the sloth’s back fur,
A camouflage cloak in a green soft blur.
From branch to cloud the slow one sways,
Carrying worlds through jungle days.
Chorus
In the moss, in the moss, where the green worlds grow,
Life moves quiet and life moves slow.
On the back of a sloth where the forest breathes,
Tiny moths drift through the leaves.
What seems still holds life embossed—
A living galaxy in the sloth’s green moss.
Bridge
But deeper still in the dew’s cascade,
Walks a tiny wandering tardigrade.
Eight little legs in a jungle unseen,
Climbing a forest of algae green.
Through droplets bright and mossy shade,
Crawls the cosmic tardigrade.
He drinks the dew from the morning rain,
Sleeps through drought and wakes again.
Through ice, through heat, through space he’s stayed—
The quiet immortal tardigrade.
Final Chorus
In the moss, in the moss, where the green worlds grow,
Life moves quiet and life moves slow.
On the back of a sloth where the rainforest flows,
Tiny moths rise where the moss still grows.
And smaller still where the dew is laid—
A secret world for the tardigrade.
Outro
So high in the trees where the rain clouds cross,
Lives a moth and a sloth in the emerald moss.
And deeper still in the droplets displayed,
Walks the ancient little tardigrade.
A universe small, yet perfectly made—
In moss, in moth, in sloth, in tardigrade
[Final Chorus]
The all work together.
They all are friends.
They need eachother.
Into the end.
But when the end comes. The cycle continues.
Its a whole little ecosystem
That works.
Nature is god.
BURDEN
