"Would you rather be feared, or be laughed at?"
I what I asked myself at the end of the night
And what I asked myself in a dream long ago
And what I asked myself before I got to know

I would rather be feared than be laughed at
I would rather raise hell and a flurry of pain
If it meant that at last they would utter my name
I would rather be fear than be laughed at

No, I would not be feared, dear little ones
Not with my young and tired face
Not with my aching heart that lets
But a tear or two when the moon is full

No, I would not be feared, beings of the night
Not with my all-too-solemn face
Not with my tiny wrists and neck
Not with my bones and skin and flesh
So like their own it hurts sometimes