Standard (EADGBE)

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 No tongue in the bell and the fish wives 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 thinkin’, “That’s no substitute,

  It just don’t do it like the song

 Of a warm, warm body lov- - ing your touch.”

In the court they carve your legend

With an apple in its jaw

And the women 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 judgment 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

 Re-voked, but not yet cancelled

 The gift goes on, in si-lence

 In a bell jar, still the song.

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You’ve got to shake your fists at lightning now

You’ve got to roar like a forest fire

You’ve got to spread your light like blazes

All across the sky

They’re gonna aim the hoses on you

Show them you won’t expire

Not till you burn up every passion

Not even when you die

Come 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

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