Favourite Hour - Costello Elvis



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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