| The streets are covered in chalk
|
| The shops are boarded up
|
| The bodies are carried back down from the square
|
| He begins to wonder
|
| If it always was this hot
|
| Or is it just the clothes
|
| That he now wears
|
| Napoleon sheds his skin
|
| In the summer when the sun is high
|
| He never knows when to quit
|
| When to stop…
|
| Or when to say die
|
| Pick the bones, get a tan
|
| Or wander
|
| Underground
|
| She would not have left him anyway
|
| Wait by the sea, wait in the sun
|
| As if the time
|
| Stood still
|
| Did he get involved
|
| In whichever side
|
| That paid
|
| Napoleon sheds his skin
|
| In the summer when the sun is high
|
| He never knows when to quit
|
| When to stop…
|
| Or when to say die
|
| …And time stands still behind
|
| The distant gates
|
| Time moves on outside in the sun
|
| Then he wonders which side he’s really on
|
| Then he doesn’t care
|
| It’s so grey in there
|
| He just wants to get back to her…
|
| Napoleon sheds his skin
|
| In the summer when the sun is high
|
| He never knew when to quit
|
| When to stop…
|
| Or when to say die…
|
| She waits for him by the wharf
|
| By the sea where they used to go
|
| She sings a song that they’d sing
|
| Then waits for the echo…
|
| Na… poleon
|
| Sheds his skin
|
| Na… poleon
|
| Sheds his skin
|
| Na… poleon
|
| Sheds his skin
|
| I’ve got to get out of here
|
| Can she save me
|
| I’ve got to get out of here
|
| Can she save me
|
| I’ve got to get out of here…
|
| Can you hear me… |