But they might as well be mute
So you get to keep the pictures
That don't seem like much
Cold white keys under your fingers
Like the song of a warm, warm body
In the court they carve your legend
And the women that you wanted
On the bedposts of refinement
They think you're too raw
It's the judgement of the Moon and stars
Think what you'd like to have
Revoked but not yet cancelled
You've got to shake your fists at lightning now
You've got to roar like forest fire
You've got to spread your light like blazes
They're going to aim the hoses on you
Show 'em you won't expire
Not till you burn up every passion
If you're feeling contempt
If you're tired of the silent night
Jesus, well then you yell it
Condemned to wires and hammers
Strike every chord that you feel