The homecoming fanfare is echoing still
|
Now tapping on tables
|
And sensing a chill
|
Poor families expecting loved one's return
|
Only summon some charlatan spectre
|
Oh, when will they learn?
|
|
You hung the moon
|
From a gallows in the sky
|
Choked out the light
|
From his blue lunar eye
|
|
The shore is a parchment
|
The sea has no tide
|
Since he was taken from my side
|
|
The lines of the fallen are viewed through a glass
|
But you cannot touch them at all
|
Or hear their footfall just as they go past
|
The drunken ground is where they are bound
|
|
You hung the moon
|
From a gallows in the sky
|
Put out the light in his blue lunar eye
|
|
The shore is a parchment
|
The sea has no tide
|
Since he was taken from my side
|
|
So slap out his terrors
|
And sneer at his tears
|
We deal with deserters like this
|
From the breech to the barrel, the bead we will level
|
Break earth with a shovel, quick march on the double
|
Lower him shallow like tallow down in the abyss
|
|
You hung the moon
|
From a gallows in the sky
|
Choked out the light in his blue lunar eye
|
|
The shore is a parchment
|
The sea has no tide
|
Since he was taken from my side
|
|
-----------------
|
You Hung The Moon
|
| Elvis Costello |
