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in liverpool on sunday, no traffic on the avenue the light is pale and thin like you no sound, down in this part of town except for the boy in the belfry, he's crazy, he's throwing himself down from the top of the tower like an unchback in heaven he is ringing the bells in the church for the last half an hour he sound's like he's missing something or someone that he knows he can't have now and if he isn't, i certainly am. homesick for a clock,that told the same time sometimes you made nosense to me if you lie on the ground, in somebody's arms you'll probably swallow some of their history and the boy in the belfry he's crazy,he's throwing himself down from the top of the tower, like an unchback in heaven,he's ringing the bells in the church for the last half an hour he sound like he's missing something or someone that he knows he can't have now and if he isn't i certainly am. i'll be the girl who sing for my supper you'll be the monk whose forehead is high he'll be the man who's already working spreading a memory all trough the sky in liverpool on sunday no reasons to even remember you now except for the boy in the belfry....... Please fill in the fields below and click SUBMIT to send it to your friend.
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