To protest the moon
To protest the idea of sleep
To balance our calm and our urgency
To protest their notion of fraternity and race
I never masked my grief
 [bad word] show your face [bad word] out to breathe just for a while
And do not neglect your guile [bad word] home [bad word] home, for the trials of Rome.

Now you try to break free
With more courage than skill
And what worried me then
And worries me still
Is that you can’t stab a king in the dark
And you need that initial spark to be pure
And you need to be sure of your shot
So bury me beneath their arenas
While the scent still lingers
This icy ring has turned my hand
So cold and so numb
Now it’s time to bare the secrets you wear
At your throat and be gone

All tired and naked
I’d trade my gun for a blanket
And get some sleep tonight
To wear tomorrow’s scars with pride
I can still smell it on you
The spell they put on you
For what has been repressed
Shall leak out through the cracks
Have [bad word] [bad word] astray with me?
Bound to know a few secrecies?
So nod your thanks to me
For these are the gifts that custom demands
Lemons and tea and a letter that grants
Freedom and obscurity

To protest the moon
To protest the idea of sleep
To balance our calm and our urgency
To protest their notions
Of fraternity and race
I never masked my grief
 [bad word] show your face
To protest the moon
To protest the idea of sleep
To balance our calm and our urgency…