These poems are dirty And the philosopher is stoned (He's not alone) The goddess is hungry Oh, but her priest, he will not come (He's had his fun) Birch, rowan, ash, and oak Molten words out of silver throats Feast or famine, fight or flee Peasants, pheasants And the devil makes three Oh, Venus in chrome, where did you go (Ahhh) How you could leave now that I know (Ahhh) So cruel to give and take away (Ahhh) Appear from this flame and always stay Nomad is sleepin' While worms whisper in the dark (It's of you they talk) The library is bleedin' There is no time for last remarks (So let the panic start)