Hooverphonic - In Liverpool

In liverpool
on sunday
no traffic
on the avenue
the light is pale and thin
like you
no sound down in this part of town

exept for the boy in the belfry
he's crazy
he's throwing himself down
from the top of the tower
like a hunchback in heaven
he's ringing the bells in the curch
for the last half an hour
it sounds like he's missing something or someone
that he can't have now
and if he isn't I certainly am homesick for a clock that told the same time
sometimes you made no sence to me
you probebly lay on the ground in somebody's arms
probebly swallowed some of their history

I'll be the girl who sings for my supper
you'll be the monk who's forehead is high
he'll be the man who's already working
spreading the memorie all trough the sky
in liverpool
on sunday
no reason
to even remember you now