elvis costello
favourite hour
Figure hanging on a leather band  Cog consults the watch he cups in his hand  Bejewelled 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 I don't count  Small mercies and such  The flags may lower as we approach the favorite 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 goodbye  Their vile perfume brings to my mouth a bitter taste  The murmuring brooks had best speak up, it's a terrible waste   [Chorus]