From:
There's a moon over Bourbon Street tonight.
I see faces as they pass beneath the pale lamplight.
I've no choice but to follow that call:
the bright lights, the people, and the moon and all.
I pray everyday to be strong,
for I know what I do must be wrong.
Oh you'll never see my shade
or hear the sound of my feet
while there's a moon over Bourbon Street.
It was many years ago that I became what I am.
I was trapped in this life like an innocent lamb.
Now I can never show my face at noon
and you'll only see me walking by the light of the moon.
The brim of my hat hides the eyes of a beast.
I've the face of a sinner but the hands of a priest.
Oh you'll never see my shade
or hear the sound of my feet
while there's a moon over Bourbon Street.
She walks everyday through the streets of New Orleans.
She's innocent and young from a family of means.
I have stood many times outside her window at night
to struggle with my instinct in the pale moon light.
How could I be this way when I pray to God above ?
I must love what I destroy and destroy the thing I love.
Oh you'll never see my shade
or hear the sound of my feet
while there's a moon over Bourbon Street.
Translate to:
There's a moon over Bourbon Street tonight.
I see faces as they pass beneath the pale lamplight.
I've no choice but to follow that call:
the bright lights, the people, and the moon and all.
I pray everyday to be strong,
for I know what I do must be wrong.
Oh you'll never see my shade
or hear the sound of my feet
while there's a moon over Bourbon Street.
It was many years ago that I became what I am.
I was trapped in this life like an innocent lamb.
Now I can never show my face at noon
and you'll only see me walking by the light of the moon.
The brim of my hat hides the eyes of a beast.
I've the face of a sinner but the hands of a priest.
Oh you'll never see my shade
or hear the sound of my feet
while there's a moon over Bourbon Street.
She walks everyday through the streets of New Orleans.
She's innocent and young from a family of means.
I have stood many times outside her window at night
to struggle with my instinct in the pale moon light.
How could I be this way when I pray to God above ?
I must love what I destroy and destroy the thing I love.
Oh you'll never see my shade
or hear the sound of my feet
while there's a moon over Bourbon Street.