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Fog lifts from the harbor, dawn goes down to day |
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An agent crests the shadows of a nearby alleyway |
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Piles of broken bricks, signposts on the path |
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Every moments points toward the aftermath |
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Sailors straggle back from their nights out on the town |
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Hopeless urchins from the city gather around |
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Spies from imperial China wash in with the tide |
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Every battle heads toward surrender on both sides |
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And I am coming home to you |
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With my own blood in my mouth |
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And I coming home to you |
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If it's the last thing that I do |
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Bells ring in the tower, wolves howl in the hills |
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Chalk marks show up on a few high windowsills |
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And a rabbit gives up somewhere and a dozen hawks descend |
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Every moment leads toward its own sad end |
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Ships loosed from their moorings capsize and then they're gone |
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Sailors with no captains watch a while and then move on |
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And an agent crests the shadows and I head in her direction |
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All roads lead toward the same blocked intersection |
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I am coming home to you |
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With my own blood in my mouth |
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And I am coming home to you |
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If it's the last thing that I do |
