Song | Twilight Capers |
Artist | Be Bop Deluxe |
Album | Air Age Anthology |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
All the white horses ran bleeding to the end, | |
Shot through the heart by dear devoted passion | |
And the falling stars that never fall | |
But send ambassadors to call, | |
Still call the guilty to heaven | |
All the wild ones keep their shades pulled down, | |
They hid their dead eyes from the ground, | |
They starve their souls with murder proud | |
Beneath the shroud, beneath the shroud | |
And in a corner by the door, in a picture on the wall | |
Hangs a man of hollow leather | |
I can see his broken grin, | |
His fallen hope, his glorious sin, | |
Bejewelled and robed in splendour | |
See the clouds form without sound… | |
Dark and swollen, torn and bound by the storm | |
That scream around in the heads | |
Of those he found beneath the ground, beneath the ground | |
In the grey corridors of melting ice, | |
In the cod golden claw of autumn nights, | |
You can find us again in paradise | |
We are the voice in the shadows, | |
The curse that binding | |
We are the crack in the mirror, | |
The seeker finding | |
We are the light in the lantern | |
Your blindness brought you | |
We are the dazzling phantoms | |
Of dark misfortune… |
All the white horses ran bleeding to the end, | |
Shot through the heart by dear devoted passion | |
And the falling stars that never fall | |
But send ambassadors to call, | |
Still call the guilty to heaven | |
All the wild ones keep their shades pulled down, | |
They hid their dead eyes from the ground, | |
They starve their souls with murder proud | |
Beneath the shroud, beneath the shroud | |
And in a corner by the door, in a picture on the wall | |
Hangs a man of hollow leather | |
I can see his broken grin, | |
His fallen hope, his glorious sin, | |
Bejewelled and robed in splendour | |
See the clouds form without sound | |
Dark and swollen, torn and bound by the storm | |
That scream around in the heads | |
Of those he found beneath the ground, beneath the ground | |
In the grey corridors of melting ice, | |
In the cod golden claw of autumn nights, | |
You can find us again in paradise | |
We are the voice in the shadows, | |
The curse that binding | |
We are the crack in the mirror, | |
The seeker finding | |
We are the light in the lantern | |
Your blindness brought you | |
We are the dazzling phantoms | |
Of dark misfortune |
All the white horses ran bleeding to the end, | |
Shot through the heart by dear devoted passion | |
And the falling stars that never fall | |
But send ambassadors to call, | |
Still call the guilty to heaven | |
All the wild ones keep their shades pulled down, | |
They hid their dead eyes from the ground, | |
They starve their souls with murder proud | |
Beneath the shroud, beneath the shroud | |
And in a corner by the door, in a picture on the wall | |
Hangs a man of hollow leather | |
I can see his broken grin, | |
His fallen hope, his glorious sin, | |
Bejewelled and robed in splendour | |
See the clouds form without sound | |
Dark and swollen, torn and bound by the storm | |
That scream around in the heads | |
Of those he found beneath the ground, beneath the ground | |
In the grey corridors of melting ice, | |
In the cod golden claw of autumn nights, | |
You can find us again in paradise | |
We are the voice in the shadows, | |
The curse that binding | |
We are the crack in the mirror, | |
The seeker finding | |
We are the light in the lantern | |
Your blindness brought you | |
We are the dazzling phantoms | |
Of dark misfortune |