Track 4 of _Fugazi_ —
To be the prince of possession, in the gallery of contempt.
Suffering your indiscrete discretions, and you ask me to relent.
As you accumulate flirtations, with the calculated calmness of the whore.
(Of the whore)
I am the harlequin, with diamonded costume dripping shades of green,
I am the harlequin, sense strangers violate my sanctuary, prowl my dreams.
(My dreams)
And their my dreams.
(Their my dreams!)
Plundering your diaries, I’ll steal your thought’s. (thoughts)
Ravaging your letters, unearth your plots. (plots)
Innocence, innocence, innocence, innocence, innocence, innocence.
To don the robes of Torquemada, to resurrect the Inquisition,
And in that tortured subtle manner inflict questions within questions,
Within questions.
Looking in shades of green through shades of blue;
I trust you trusting me to mistrust you.
Through the silk-cut haze to the smeared mascara,
A forty-watt sun on a courtroom drama.
And the coffee stains gather till the pale kimono,
Set the wedding rings dancing on the cold linoleum.
This is innocence.
And accusation’s moths that circle around the light,
They char their wings in spiral senseless, suicidal flight.
You pack our world within a suitcase, hot tears melt this icy palace,
And dissolve a crystal swallowed by the night.
Looking in shades of green through shades of blue,
Looking in shades of green through shades of blue.
These shades of blue, of blue…