Thea Gilmore - Hooligansville

The moon is pulling faces

The clouds are on the rise

The night blinks away a few more stars

And rubs its tired eyes

There’s a ticking of a clock, boys

There’s one more hour to kill

See, there’s a warrant out for the past’s arrest

Down in Hooligansville



And they’ve been building their little box homes

Paving the earth with black

And rhapsodising innocence

It’s never coming back

It’s a faded invitation

On a peeling window-sill

There’s always someone else to take the blame

Down in Hooligansville



There’s a lot of broken swings

A lot of junk too

A lot of reckoning

Left to do

When you’re falling

You all fall so far

‘Cause no amount of wishing

Can get you out of where you are



They’ve got angels in the doorways

Shakin’ empty cups

All the fairy stories they still tell

Will never be enough

And there is evidence of dreams

And the wishes that they spill

But they’ll leave them there to stain the streets

Down in Hooligansville



So roll out the barrel, boys

Kill the music now

Silence the prophets who have never told

Good fortunes anyhow

Bow down to your fate, boys

Now even the tide is still

‘Cause you’ll walk a hundred miles and still won’t find

Your way out of Hooligansville

You’ll walk a hundred miles and still won’t find

Your way out of Hooligansville










		
			



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