作词 : Costello 作曲 : Costello No one looks in this place for motive or any hope But for the dead shot of an amber glass, the blue light of a votive Rain obscured the window as the pain was dulled by the grains Absolved by spoons in flames and fear in time dissolving It's not for the faint of pulse or anybody false Those amateurs who simply shed their skins So where are those traitors now, we once called patriots? Just like those saints who seem to revel in their sins Oh, my eyes were filled with tears that were stinging After our assassin's work was done The bells and hands were only there for the wringing And we were bringing bullets for the new-born king The trumpet sound lamenting, tramping down the blooms of the deceased The double agent girl and the fallen priest were heading for the border Somewhere in the high command, there stayed the palest hand That saw the order countermand, erased a tape recorder And then they hung him from a window cord Swallow down that voodoo vial and stay your breath a while Before we spill the tale that we have spun And now I shall confide all that I have denied Oh, I'm so sorry for the things I've doneOh, my eyes were filled with tears that were stinging After our assassin's work was done The bells and hands were only there for the wringing And we were bringing bullets for the new-born king
作词 : Costello 作曲 : Costello No one looks in this place for motive or any hope But for the dead shot of an amber glass, the blue light of a votive Rain obscured the window as the pain was dulled by the grains Absolved by spoons in flames and fear in time dissolving It's not for the faint of pulse or anybody false Those amateurs who simply shed their skins So where are those traitors now, we once called patriots? Just like those saints who seem to revel in their sins Oh, my eyes were filled with tears that were stinging After our assassin's work was done The bells and hands were only there for the wringing And we were bringing bullets for the new-born king The trumpet sound lamenting, tramping down the blooms of the deceased The double agent girl and the fallen priest were heading for the border Somewhere in the high command, there stayed the palest hand That saw the order countermand, erased a tape recorder And then they hung him from a window cord Swallow down that voodoo vial and stay your breath a while Before we spill the tale that we have spun And now I shall confide all that I have denied Oh, I'm so sorry for the things I've doneOh, my eyes were filled with tears that were stinging After our assassin's work was done The bells and hands were only there for the wringing And we were bringing bullets for the new-born king
