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Текст песни Elvis Costello - Favourite Hour

Elvis Costello - Favourite Hour слова песни




Figure hanging on a leather bandCog consults the watch he cups in his handBejewelled movement measures lost and vanished timePray for the boy who makes his bed in cold earth and quicklimeChorus:So stay the hands, arrest the timetill I am captured by your touchBlessings I dont countSmall mercies and suchThe flags may lower as we approach the favourite hourNow theres a tragic waste of brutal youthStrip and polish this unvarnished truthThe tricky door that gapes beneath the ragged nooseThe crippled verdict begs again for the lamest excuseChorusPull out my eyes so I may never spyWaving branches as theyre waving goodbyeTheir vile perfume brings to my mouth a bitter tasteThe murmuring brooks had best speak up, its a terrible wasteChorus

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