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

Except 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 church

For the last half an hour

He sounds like he's missing something

Or someone that he knows 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 sense to me

if you lie on the ground

in somebody's arms

you'll probably swallow some of their history

And 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 church

For the last half an hour

He sounds like he's missing something

Or someone that he knows he can't

Have now and if he isn't

I certainly am

I'll be the girl who sings for my supper

You'll be the monk whose forehead is high

He'll be the man who's already working

Spreading a memory all through the sky

In Liverpool

On Sunday

No reason to even remember you now

Except 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 church

For the last half an hour

He sounds like he's missing something

Or someone that he knows he can't

Have now and if he isn't

I certainly am

In Liverpool, in Liverpool