Sting - Moon Over Bourbon Street
There′s a
moon over Bourbon Street
tonight
I see faces as they pass beneath the pale lamplight
I′ve no choice but to follow that call
The bright lights, the people, and the moon and all
I pray everyday to be strong
For I know what I do must be wrong
Oh you′ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While there′s a
moon over Bourbon Street
It was many years ago that I became what I am
I was trapped in this life like an innocent lamb
Now I can never show my face at noon
And you′ll only see me walking by the light of the moon
The brim of my hat hides the eye of a beast
I′ve the face of a sinner but the hands of a priest
Oh you′ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While there′s a
moon over Bourbon Street
She walks everyday through the streets of New Orleans
She′s innocent and young from a family of means
I have stood many times outside her window at night
To struggle with my instinct in the pale moonlight
How could I be this way when I pray to God above
I must love what I destroy and destroy the thing I love
Oh you′ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While there′s a moon over Bourbon Street
moon over Bourbon Street
tonight
I see faces as they pass beneath the pale lamplight
I′ve no choice but to follow that call
The bright lights, the people, and the moon and all
I pray everyday to be strong
For I know what I do must be wrong
Oh you′ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While there′s a
moon over Bourbon Street
It was many years ago that I became what I am
I was trapped in this life like an innocent lamb
Now I can never show my face at noon
And you′ll only see me walking by the light of the moon
The brim of my hat hides the eye of a beast
I′ve the face of a sinner but the hands of a priest
Oh you′ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While there′s a
moon over Bourbon Street
She walks everyday through the streets of New Orleans
She′s innocent and young from a family of means
I have stood many times outside her window at night
To struggle with my instinct in the pale moonlight
How could I be this way when I pray to God above
I must love what I destroy and destroy the thing I love
Oh you′ll never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
While there′s a moon over Bourbon Street
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