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
