作词 : Henry
Lincoln Street is howling
It's empty, growing colder,
The night has come on limping and
It's bleeding from the shoulder.
Headlights fake a prison break
Of snow that rages and dies,
It's lost its will upon this hill
As one time so did I.
But here comes everybody-
The rounders and the nuns,
The poets sweeping sleeper cars,
The butcher and his sons;
Here comes the restitution
We'd all but given up,
This evening we're content believing
That love will be enough.
Air is what I need
But I try to breathe you in,
Thinking I can get at what I must
Beneath your skin.
Your veins are humming wire
Rushing fire to your face,
I feel it flush against my own,
A pulse that I can taste.
And here comes everybody-
The tyrant and his crew,
His most loyal traitors
And they whisper this to you:
Here comes the restitution
You'd all but given up,
This evening we're content believing
That love will be enough.
The fire escape is folded
Like the cradle of an arm,
Our dread so deep we've learned to keep it
Near without alarm.
But every fear is like the prayer
You've learned to shout out loud,
From your lips to God's ear
It turns the face of every crowd.
And here comes everybody-
The closet renegades,
The weary, hungry soldiers
From the children's lost crusade.
Here comes the restitution
We'd all but given up,
This evening we’re content believing
That love will be enough.