In Liverpool   On Sunday   No traffic   On the avenue   The light is pale and thin   Like you   No sound, down   In this part of town   Except for the boy in the belfry   He's crazy, he's throwing himself   Down from the top of the tower   Like a hunchback in heaven   He's ringing the bells in the church   For the last half an hour   He sounds like he's missing something   Or someone that he knows he can't   Have now and if he isn't   I certainly am         Homesick for a clock   That told the same time   sometimes you made no sense to me   if you lie on the ground   in somebody's arms   you'll probably swallow some of their history         And the boy in the belfry   He's crazy, he's throwing himself   Down from the top of the tower   Like a hunchback in heaven   He's ringing the bells in the church   For the last half an hour   He sounds like he's missing something   Or someone that he knows he can't   Have now and if he isn't   I certainly am         I'll be the girl who sings for my supper   You'll be the monk whose forehead is high   He'll be the man who's already working   Spreading a memory all through the sky         In Liverpool   On Sunday   No reason to even remember you now         Except for the boy in the belfry   He's crazy, he's throwing himself   Down from the top of the tower   Like a hunchback in heaven   He's ringing the bells in the church   For the last half an hour   He sounds like he's missing something   Or someone that he knows he can't   Have now and if he isn't   I certainly am         In Liverpool   In Liverpool