Draw another flagon down I need to wash the memory from my mind
Watch the pretty girls go by, laugh aloud beneath the pale sunshine
Tonight I’ll go carousing, there’s not a cloud and I love the starlit sky
And maybe by the morning I’ll have reached the beast I am inside
And he who won’t fear must suffer his tongue
Everybody knows, that we are alone
They stood the poor wretch upside down, after 7 years his beard no longer brown
Like a duck for the cardinal, pluckеd naked, to be ready for thеir fire
And he who won’t fear must suffer his tongue
Everybody knows, that we are alone
We speak the language of an ancient planet; he contemplates oblivion
Loading our baskets with olives, as the flames behind us crackle on the fat of truth
He surely was no friend of mine, but a brighter mind you’d travel far to find
When it comes to thinking, maybe those who soar should be judged not by how high
Giordano Bruno
1593 tried for heresy, sentenced to death, burned at the stake by the
Inquisition
“perhaps you pronounce this sentence against me with greater fear than I receive it”
References poem by Ceslaw Milosz ‘Campo Dei Fiori’
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate and an Apple Partner, we earn from qualifying purchases
Art Schop Lyrics – Heretic Astronomer