Agatha and I go Down to the courtyard slinging Last year's Sundays in the river of time Agatha and I go Down to the citadel Sunday Red church bells and the moon on the rise If you were to tell her The days are numbered I'd break the teeth in your fake ass smile Maybe in a rare wind Maybe in a month of Sundays Maybe in a war I would still read the wrong signs But I don't mind it Being in the darkness, baby To be by your side, I would walk the Nile twice Days of Lantana Each saint with a cross and a hammer Radiation of the Cherenkov kind So we go walking Birds at the window talking Jubilation in the rain and shine Agatha and I go Down to the citadel, running Things that graciously came to mind Gathering the day in Some make arrangements Some know the way and they just walk a straight line, well Curly's a baker's boy Living for the harvest nights Turns to me, says something like, "The world only turns twice" Once for the laughter Once for the memories after All the rest is just kicking through the weather and fines So we go dancing, we Twist turns and all things fancy "I blame the baker boy", that's what I had on my mind You in the here now Me in the far bar I'd wait forever if they gave me enough time Outside walking, oh Birds at the window talking Iterations of the faint June shine