Music of the Spheres

You'll never take from me the music of the spheres,
never convince me my God is a liar,
no matter how many books and grins and leers

you throw at me, no matter how clear
your circles in the sand, your funeral pyre,
you'll never take from me the music of the spheres.

Clothe me in newsprint, hold my politics dear,
you'll never walk me through your petty fire,
no matter how many books and grins and leers

you use to savage me. You'll never make it clear
why my capitulation is so dire;
you'll never take from me the music of the spheres.

You'll never take me, bowing, even swearing merely
to want what you want, to desire what you desire,
no matter how many books and grins and leers

you pile on my head, no matter how many fears
you monger, no matter how loud your lyre.
No matter how many books and grins and leers,
you'll never take from me the music of the spheres.