The Perfect Crime #2 - The Decemberists
Sing news with passion of the pistol
Sing bews of the warning by the whistle
A night so dark in the waning
A dawn obscured by slate sky raining, oh oh
Five and twenty burglars by the reservoir
A teenage lookout on the signal tower
The mogul's daughter in hog ties
The mogul fingers the wrong guy, all right
It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime
It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime
The bagman's quaking in the fingers
The hand-off glance a little lingers
A well-dressed man in the crosshairs
A shot rings out from somewhere upstairs
It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime
It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime
It was the perfect crime
It was like a ticker-tape parade
When the last of the safe was blown away
And we all gaze from eye to eye
As we mouth our silent goodbyes
The valley's sleeping like a bastard
It stinks of slumber and disaster
Two words are spoke on the tap wire
The agent's pull finds a surefire backfire
It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime
It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime
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