"A bag of nerves I seem to suppress Alien of being Not known to duress Moonshine, moonshine There's something in the hills I cannot possess As dark as Sunday We're woven again I pack no meaning I'm shrunken in vain Moonshine, moonshine I'm bleak as Tuesday I seek no applause Not really like me Refuse to go on My faith has been surely fired I'm schooled in the test of time Moonshine, moonshine There's something in the hills I cannot possess I'm deaf as Thursday I seek to explode One hour daily I work to implode Moonshine, moonshine
"