No tongue in the bell 
And the fishwives yell 
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 
Now you're thinking 
"That's no substitute 
It just don't do it 
Like the song of a warm warm body 
Loving your touch"

In the court they carve your legend 
With an apple in its jaw 
And the women that you wanted 
They get their laughs 
Long silk stockings 
On the bedposts of refinement 
You're too raw 
They think you're too raw 
It's the judgement of the moon and stars 
Your solitary path 
Draw yourself a bath 
Think what you'd like to have 
For supper 
Or take a walk 
park 
bridge 
tree 
river 
Revoked but not yet cancelled 
The gift goes on 
In silence 
In a bell jar 
Still a song 

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 
All across the sky 
They're going to aim the hoses on you 
Show 'em you won't expire 
Not till you burn up every passion 
Not even when you die [bad word] on now 
You've got to try 
If you're feeling contempt 
Well then you tell it 
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 
That broken trees 
And elephant ivories conceal

© Joni Mitchell