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There's a full moon over this ancient town |
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A clock faced the color of the sky |
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And every street that we walk down |
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Belongs to the house where my father died |
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Where prisoners march in luck step with each other |
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Reavers test the limit of their reign |
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Dragging their dead weight from the other |
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While I claim my place, center stage |
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I've been thrown by the thrashing of his going |
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Chained to his unseen stride |
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I've walked in luck step without knowing |
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My indifference, my only disguise |
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Now it comes through me like an injection |
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Anonymous pain throbbing real inside |
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And every pulse in my body |
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Belongs to the house where my father died |
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Won't catch his spirit in a candle |
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On or alive in it's guttering glow |
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And death comes through these streets like a scandal |
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Bent up and beaten, oh, a bitter body blow |
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And in bars and shaded back rooms |
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Those who can't cope just get high |
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But every place this drink takes me to |
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Belongs to the house, where my father died |
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And there's a full moon over this ancient town |
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Head lights numb the banner of the sky |
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Rain rages the steadings and the open ground |
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And I'm a child fighting shadows with tears in my eyes |
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And the valley cannons and thunder |
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Trees blow beneath the bruising of the sky |
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Like centuries shield the lake from my wonder |
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And I'm as helpless as a child hiding from life |
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And the face from my mind is fading |
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I count the wounds for the very first time |
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Tonight there's gonna be a reckoning |
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I'm entering the house where my father died |
