| Fog lifts from the harbor, dawn goes down to day
|
| An agent crests the shadows of the nearby alleyway
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| Piles of broken bricks, sign posts on the path
|
| Every moment points towards the aftermath
|
| Yeah ah ah
|
| Sailors straggle back from their nights out on the town
|
| Hopeless urchins from the city gather around
|
| Spies from imperial China wash in with the tide
|
| Every battle heads toward surrender on both sides
|
| And I am coming home to you
|
| With my own blood in my mouth
|
| And I am coming home to you
|
| If it’s the last thing that I do
|
| Bells ring in the tower, wolves howl in the hills
|
| 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
|
| Yeah ah ah
|
| Ships loosed from their moorings capsize and then they’re gone
|
| Sailors with no captains watch awhile and then move on
|
| And an agent crests the shadows and I head in her direction
|
| All roads lead toward the same blocked intersection
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| I am coming home to you
|
| With my own blood in my mouth
|
| And I am coming home to you
|
| If it’s the last thing that I do |