| Forced into the stagelight / A weak, wan and marbled hide / Disgorged up to jugdement / Sharp cracks of the gavel | |
| Great caps in a row / Their fine mystery certain / And the balcony heaves with old familiarts, lechers and treason | |
| The prisoner's stance / A calm acceptance in the stifling scowl of the hanging judge / The defendant speaks... | |
| Where am I now that you could deliver me? / I have lived over clouds and beneath the deepest sea | |
| I sang from the caverns as the rocks peeled and broke with trees / I was origin, everything. Who could deliver me? | |
| For I was a blaze in your shallow dusk / The winding berth of stars / Where lonely gavels pound the earth | |
| To work it dark with scars / But I tire of the chase, the harvest monopoly / How you bore with your delicate graces and | |
| charity / I'll soothe quiet desires and the ache of the evergreen / And then how shall I wait - for judgement or clarity? | |
| For I am your ache and your reverie / Your wild desire and colour / And in my flaws adorn the court / The pivot of my garden | |
| Deliver your judgement / My chancery, pause to decide | |
| Deliver your judgement / My garden, my flowers of light |
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