Judgement of the Moon and Stars (Ludwig's Tune) [Live at Royal Festival Hall, London, England, 5/5/1972]

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, a park, a bridge, a tree, a 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

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