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 k** 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 k** 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