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The moon is in the gutter |
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And the stars wash down the sink |
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I am the king of the blues |
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I scape the clay off my shoes |
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And wade down the gutter and the moon |
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The moon blinds my eye with opal cataracts |
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As i cut through the saw-mills and the stacks, |
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Leaping over the gully where i would one day take lucy |
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Then wash up my hands in the gutter and the moon. |
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Such a long way from home, just me and |
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The moon is in the gutter |
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All my plans are flushed down the drain |
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I wander lonely as a cloud |
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Over memories at her mound |
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Then lie down in the bitter gutter moon. |
