He was a clubland caller, He was younger than he felt
Settled like a moth down in the eastend Neon belt
Well he used to be a beleiver, Til the city got its grip
Now if there's any holiness left, Well he can't remember it

She was a high-rise b___erfly, Crashed in '92
Into some lonely little suburb, That they bulldozed through
Where the little fat angels, Guard the harvest like they should
Well its downtown now, But it used to be the woods

And Oh its a lonely little town
Oh its a lonely little tune
And If my name is on that list I guess I'll see you soon

First he heard her voice, Then he saw her face
She shone just like a crucifix an instrument of grace
ANd they got on like children, They got a hotel room
They got a new religion, A needle and a spoon

And they gave thanks to the heavens, But the devil held their hands
And they walked that great divide between Disciples and partisans
And the brown and the bible, They were never quite enough
But the life that grew inside her well, That felt a bit like love

oh..

The seasons are a metronome, The rhythm and the wild
The winter took his heart away, The spring it took her child
And the honeyed breath of summer, Is sweet and overgrown
But its always autumn sings "its not too late To find your way back home"

And a bell sometimes reminds them, Or the singing in the wind
The striking of a match, the smell of Paraffin
And some folks are drawn to the fire, And some just want to hide
But the lonely are the prettiest of all, They burn from the inside
They burn from the inside

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