Favourite Hour - Elvis Costello (埃尔维斯 科斯特洛)
Written by：Elvis Costello
Figure hanging on a leather band
Cog consults the watch he cups in his hand
Bejewelled movement
Measures lost and vanished time
Pray for the boy who makes his bed in cold
Earth and quicklime
So stay the hands arrest the time
Till I am captured by your touch
Blessings I don't count
Small mercies and such
The flags may lower
As we approach the favourite hour
Now theres a tragic waste of brutal youth
Strip and polish this unvarnished truth
The tricky door that gapes beneath the ragged noose
The crippled verdict
Begs again for the lamest excuse
So stay the hands arrest the time
Till I am captured by your touch
Blessings I don't count
Small mercies and such
The flags may lower
As we approach the favourite hour
Pull out my eyes so I may never spy
Waving branches as they're waving goodbye
Their vile perfume brings to my mouth a bitter taste
The murmuring brooks had best speak up
It's a terrible waste
So stay the hands arrest the time
Till I am captured by your touch
Blessings I don't count
Small mercies and such
The flags may lower
As we approach the favourite I
