I wore my finest suit of clothes
|
The sharpest thorn defending the rose
|
Hot as a pistol
|
Keen as a blade
|
The sharpest thorn upon parade
|
|
And it's the same most every year
|
Ghosts of the dear departed are near
|
We raise our glasses and we cheer
|
Should old acquaintance disappear
|
Just as we wipe away a tear
|
|
Archangel Michael will lead the way
|
Archangel Gabriel is ready to play
|
Although we know we must repent
|
We hit the scene and look for sins
|
That haven't even been invented
|
|
The strongest cage that guards the prize
|
The longest lash that covers your eyes
|
A sight no eyes are meant to know
|
Then on the third day he arose
|
|
Archangel Michael will lead the way
|
Archangel Gabriel is ready to play
|
Although we know we must repent
|
We hit the scene and look for sins
|
That haven't even been invented
|
|
So Good and Evil were having a fight
|
It lasts much longer than any one night
|
It may last longer than a life
|
And turn a mistress into a wife
|
|
And so confetti fills the air
|
My head is aching
|
My pockets are bare
|
I didn't recognise their warning
|
Then I wasn't born the sharpest thorn
|
I wasn't born the sharpest thorn
|
I wasn't born the sharpest thorn
|
I wasn't born the sharpest thorn
|
I wasn't born the sharpest thorn
|
|
-----------------
|
The Sharpest Thorn
|
Elvis Costello |