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what's o'clock
Stained with smoke from the town.
What have you to do in this dismal place
By a dingy, broken stone?
He has no hands and he has no face,
And bone cannot wed with bone.
By a dingy, broken stone?
He has no hands and he has no face,
And bone cannot wed with bone.
You took his flesh and you took his heart,
But his bones are his own to keep.
Knuckle and straight, he has them all
Down in the gravel deep.
But his bones are his own to keep.
Knuckle and straight, he has them all
Down in the gravel deep.
Perhaps he laughs with his hard grey mouth,
Perhaps he shouts with glee,
And cuddles his bones up one by one,
And wishes that you could see.
Perhaps he shouts with glee,
And cuddles his bones up one by one,
And wishes that you could see.
Perhaps he plays jackstones with his bones,
And bets how long you will stay.
And bets how long you will stay.
