Tenzone lyrics

Will people accept them?
        (i.e. these songs).
As a timorous wench from a centaur
        (or a centurion),
Already they flee, howling in terror.
Will they be touched with the truth?
        Their virgin stupidity is untemptable.
I beg you, my friendly critics,
Do not set about to procure me an audience.

I mate with my free kind upon the crags;
        the hidden recesses
Have heard the echo of my heels,
        in the cool light,
        in the darkness