Your lives to change? An oracle to speak?
  Some version of the wounded matador
  Who turns toward the bull his other cheek
  And entertains you with a torn physique?
  Some prisoner in pyjamas dancing lewd
  Trablinka waltzes, while another freak
  Hangs himself to concentrate your mood
  And sweeten up your putrid solitude?
  
  (Michael) My drummer is the only one I trust
  Let the drums go rolling through the night
  And let them pulverise my deep disgust
  With steady thunder, whips and dynamite
  The man of sticks and skins is always right.
  I found him near the cremetorium
  Humiliated, begging for a fight.
  I wrote the name of honour on a drum
  O drummer tell the people why I've come!
  
  O listen to him and his saxophone
  
  (Frank & Louis) Our musical genital unicorn
  
  (Michael) He's very well hung with his golden horn
  He'd like to be standing out here alone
  The light on his hands, his mouth, and his bone.
  
  (Frank & Louis) So take your solo now and loose your way
  In every fingered hole and brassy groan...
  You'll soon begin to choke on what you play
  
  (Michael) You're choking now exactly as I say!
  
  (Michael, Frank As for the deeper spirits in the hall
  & Louis) Annointed ones and truely different
  Whom orgy doesn't satisfy at all
  Who loathe the horizontal argument
  
  (Frank & Louis) It is to such as you that he was sent.
  
  (Michael) I understand the loyalties that insist
  You burn a child or shoot a president
  Or tattoo numbers on a woman's wrist
  I know the sorrow of the good idealist.
  
  It is to such as you that I was sent
  To speak directly to your deepest shame
  And light the fires of experiment
  And burn all hesitation in the flame --
  I claim you now, I claim you in the name
  Of that which you have never done before
  And having done it never be the same.
  The victim shall be smitten on his sore.
  The haughty one shall have a visitor.
  
  (Michael, Frank We heard that drummer, do not think we missed
  & Louis) Your subtle derivation from the beat
  
  (Michael) Which I established with an iron fist
  A thousand years ago, a small deceit
  To be enlarged until you have complete
  Control of the mood and the atmosphere --
  Your crooked time endangering my defeat --
  Now all your instruments must disappear
  And on your traitor's face pursue your
  dark career!