Come the war, come the avarice Come the war, come hell Come attrition, come the reek of bones Come attrition, come hell And this is why, why we fight
Four score years Living down in this rain swept town Sea salt tears Swimming round as the rain comes down Mr Postman, do you have a letter for me
Sixteen military wives Thirty-two softly-focused, brightly-colored eyes Staring at the natural tan Of thirty-two gently clenching wrinkled little hands
Baby wants a new spin, baby wants a broken heart Hear you found the lynch-pin to keep it all from falling apart But you keep on rolling, you keep on rolling
Annan water you loom so deep and wide I would cross over if you would stem the tide Build a boat that I might ford the other side To reach the farthest
I'm really sorry, Steven But your bicycle's been stolen I was watchin' it for you 'til you came back in the fall I guess I didn't do such a good job after
Thou unconsolable daughter said the sister When will thou trouble the water in the cistern And what irascible blackguard is the father And when young
On the lam from the law, on the steps of the capitol You shot a plain clothes cop on the ten o'clock And I saw momentarily They flashed with photograph
(Instrumental)
Had a dream, you and me and the war of the end times And I believe California succumbed to the fault line We heaved relief as scores of innocents died
There's a wrinkle in the water Where we laid our first daughter And I think the wind blows so sweetly there Over there And the windows and the cinders
After the bombs subside And this long, low campaign Calls it good for the night We meet in the streets Will we meet in a bar's cold light? We grip at
There's a place your mother goes When everybody else is soundly sleeping Through the lights of beacon street And if you listen, you can hear her weeping
I am a chimbley, a chimbley sweep No bed to lie, no shoes to hold my feet On a rooftop, in dead of night You?ll hear me cry, I?ll shake you from your
You slept in your overalls After the wrecking ball Bereft you of house and home And left you with sweet fuck-all So we got in your car With our kickabout
By the bumper cars, in the pretty twining light I may have gone too far I may have gone too much, too long I'm a dull and witless boy In the after bars
There's an island hidden in the sound Lapping currents lay your boat to ground Affix your barb and bayonet The curlews carve their arabesques And sorrow
This cocoon, caught in Vesuvius' shadow Only the ashes remain And I waited there for you Why couldn't you? Here we lie waiting for something to startle
