Make a pillow of my ruffled feathers
Til I’m cold and weathered
Make a puzzle out of funhouse mirrors
Til I recognise myself again

I don’t want to shed the blood
I don’t want more of this stuff
I want to be the last animal
And tar the branch at last
Until we’re all too old
We ain’t need more
‘Cause we’ll be swimming in it
‘Til we’re all alone

I don’t want to make soldiers
Who will then bleed too
I don’t want wastage in a world
Of calculated fun
And I don’t want to bleed for two
Lest another son does it to you