| I can scrape off of my face
|
| All the soot from all the places I have been to
|
| And call it knowledge
|
| I can stitch and rip the gash
|
| That was a scar until I scratched and reinvoked it
|
| And call it knowledge
|
| And I won’t complain about the blisters on my heel
|
| That we’ve surrendered to the real
|
| Or the feral dogs who feed on knowledge
|
| I’m a statue of a man who looks nothing like a man
|
| But here I stand
|
| Grim and solid
|
| No scarlet secret’s mine to hold
|
| Just a century of cold and thin and useless
|
| Sexless knowledge
|
| So I won’t complain when my shattering is dreamt
|
| By the ninety-nine percent
|
| I’ll surrender to their knowledge
|
| 'Cause I have read the terms and conditions
|
| I have read the terms and conditions
|
| Let the record show I agree to my position
|
| I accept the terms and conditions
|
| Well I woke up this morning and saw the pitchforks at my door
|
| Said I woke up this morning—it was dark still—and there were pitchforks at my
|
| door
|
| And they were shining with a righteousness no knowledge ever shone before
|
| I have read the terms and conditions
|
| I have read the terms and conditions
|
| I have read the terms and conditions
|
| I have read the terms and conditions
|
| Next time let’s get raised by wolves
|
| Next time let’s get raised by wolves
|
| Next time let’s get raised by wolves
|
| Next time let’s get raised by wolves
|
| Next time let’s get raised by wolves
|
| Next time let’s get raised by wolves |