They are in plaster,
In dark masks,
Behind the shades,
Unseen through the glass.

Just as we walk across the street,
They walk too, with quieter feet,
And just as we turn around to see them,
They are gone and we believe them.

They're in shadows
Immune to sunlight,
Just when we think that it's too bright,
We cover our eyes and they pass us by.

They walk down side streets,
They cower in alleyways,
But they have no fear
Except when they're afraid.

And they don't stop moving
Until the clock strikes thirteen,
And thus they stroll for hours
And days, months and years.

They run across rivers
And climb mountains and stars,
They pour over the waterfall
Each one is a tear.

They aren't there
Except for when they are
And that is when
The clock has stopped.

They are in plaster,
In dark masks;
Unseen iconoclasts.