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The Moon is in The Gather

Nick Cave and the bad seeds

The moon is in the gutter
 And the stars wash down the sink
 I am the king of the blues
 I scrape the clay off my shoes
 And wade down the gutter and the moon

The moon blinds my eye with opal cataracts
 As I cut through the saw-mills and the stacks,
 Leaping over the gully where I would one day take Lucy
 Then wash up my hands in the gutter and the moon.

Such a long way from home, just me and
 The moon is in the gutter
 All my plans are flushed down the drain
 I wander lonely as a cloud
 Over memories at her mound
 Then lie down in the bitter gutter moon.					
					
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