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Costello Elvis Brutal Youth Favourite Hour Figure hanging on a leather band Pa consults the watch he cups in his hand The jewel movement measures lost and vanished time Pray for the boy who makes his bed in cold earth and quicklime Chorus: So stay the hands, arrest the time 'Till I am captured by your touch Blessings that don't count Small mercies and such The flags may lower As we approach the favourite hour Now there's a tragic waste of brutal youth Strip and polish this unvarnished truth The tricky door that gapes beneath the ragged noose The crippled verdict begs again for the lamest excuse -chorus- Put out my eyes so I may never spy Waving branches as they're waving good-bye Their vile perfume brings to my mouth a bitter taste The murmurring brooks that best speak up It's a terrible waste -chorus- -------------------- |
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