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He pulled a kettle from beneath the throne of bone
A porcelain cup for a sinner far from home
The water boiled blue in a furnace made of sighs
And the steam rose up to kiss the bleeding skies
Sit he said on a rug of human skin
Pour yourself a cup of where you've been
The tea was amber the tea was clear
But it tasted like every god I'd buried this year
Have tea with Zarathustra
On the throne of broken men
Have tea with Zarathustra
You will never sleep again
He said I've seen them all the ones who climbed before
Soros with his mirrors
Simons with his war
Xu with his hypnotic kings of the tape
Taleb in his castle that the swan would rape
He said they all came thirsty they all came proud They all became the tea that I pour for the crowd
Drink my friend
The cup is warm
The cup is warm because
The bones beneath it are still Burning
Have tea with Zarathustra
On the throne of broken men
Have tea with Zarathustra
And pour him one again
