Judgment of the Moon and Stars (Ludwig's tune) By Joni Mitchell

No tongue in the bell
And the fishwives yell
But they might as well be mute
So you get to keep the pictures
That donít seem like much
Cold white keys under your fingers
Now youíre thinking
Thatís no substitute
It just donít 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
Youíre too raw
They think youíre too raw
Itís the judgement of the moon and stars
Your solitary path
Draw yourself a bath
Think what youíd like to have
For supper
Or take a walk
A park
A bridge
A tree
A river
Revoked but not yet canceled
The gift goes on
In silence
In a bell jar
Still a song...
Youíve got to shake your fists at lightning now
Youíve got to roar like forest fire
Youíve got to spread your light like blazes
All across the sky
Theyíre going to aim the hoses on you
Show them you wonít expire
Not till you burn up every passion
Not even when you die
Come on now
Youíve got to try
If youíre feeling contempt
Well then you tell it
If youíre 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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