Joni Mitchell Follow

No tongue in the bell
And the fishwives yell
But they might as well be mute
So you get to keep the pictures
That don't seem like much

Cold white keys under your fingers
Now you're thinking, that's no substitute
It just don't do it like the feel of a warm, warm body
Loving your touch

In the courts they carve your legend
They stick an apple in your jaw
And the women that you wanted
Oh, they get their laughs

Long silk stockings
On the bedposts of refinement
You're too raw, they think you're too raw
It's the judgment of the moon and stars

Your solitary path
Draw yourself a bath
Think what you'd like to have for supper

Go take a walk, a park

Revoked but not yet canceled
Your gift lives on in silence in a bell jar
Still a song

You've got to shake your fists at lightning
You've got to roar like forest fire
You've got to spread your light like blazes
All across the sky

They're going to aim the hoses on you
You show 'em you won't expire now
You won't expire, not till you burn up every passion
Not even when you die

Come on now, you've got to try
If you're feeling contempt
Then you tell it
If you're tired of the silent night
Jesus, then you yell it

Condemned to wires and hammers
You strike every chord that you feel
That broken trees and elephant ivories conceal

No tongue in the bell
And the fishwives yell
But they might as well be mute