The Hermit Census

I've known you from old
Not to do as you're told
You do the one thing unreasonable
That stands in your way
And hermit you are
No census you'll take
'Til you're led to the infirmary
Where the nameless collect
Your straining wrists are no scissors
Just trying to cut the waters in two
If you learned to be a fortune teller
You'd know that's no future for you
Now, now, close that accordion mouth
Stop crying fat wedding band tears
Patch the holes in your encrusted denim
Light up like a chandelier

I've known you from old
So come in from the cold
Stop both taps from running
In the middle of your face
Raising the roof
Getting drunk off our stools
And dragging dull guilt beyond
The silver we doubt
When the blood starts making a circle
And your teeth are your tongue's only fence
You'll be moaning for a moment's mercy
Hosting these cellar events
There'll be cheers from your peers
In the pit down below
Nor in the hoards of the earth
There's no time to make meal of sorrow
When the rabble is hungry for mirth
There's no time to make meal of sorrow
When the rabble is hungry for mirth

I've known you from old
Not to do as you're told
You do the one thing unreasonable
That stands in your way