No one looks in this place for motive or any hope
But for the dead shot of an amber glass
The blue light of a votiveRain obscured the window
As the pain was dulled by the grains
Absolved by spoons in flames
In fear in time dissolvingIt's not for the faint of pulse
Or anybody false
Those amateurs who simply shed their skins
So where are those traitors now, we once called patriots?
Just like those saints who seem to revel in their sinsO my eyes were filled with tears that were stinging
After our assassin's work was done
But bells in hands are only there for the wringing
And we were bringing bullets for the new-born kingTrumpet sounds lamenting
Trampling down the blooms of the deceased
The double agent girl and the fallen priest were heading for the borderSomewhere in the high command there stayed the palest hand
Who saw the order countermand
Erased the tape recorder and then they hung him from a window cordSwallow down that voodoo vial and stay your breath a while
Before we spill this tale that we had spun
And now I shall now confide all that I have denied
Oh I'm so sorry for the things I've doneO my eyes were filled with tears that were stinging
After our assassin's work was done
But bells in hands bells were only there for the ringing
And we were bringing bullets for the new-born king
Songwriters
COSTELLO, ELVISPublished by
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