Warm and nestled in a full recline Taking on the waters of a moral life Calling out (to all) to multiply. All the parts that try to reclaim what's right Heads of science carry red stone over horizons The time for quiet contemplation never arises, why? Call the garrison to notify They're tearing all the features from the boat's design Holding on (to barricades) to occupy Other parts on fire gather rocks and tyres Hands of iron carry red stone over horizons The time for silent adoration never surprises, right? Heads of science carry red stone over horizons The times for quiet contemplation never arise Ran wild with Byron and a head strong barrel of wine And a fire for Simon who resented living a lie as a shy designer With a head strong barrel of righteous ire and violence And attempted struggles to answer why