The moon is in the gutter
And the stars wash down the sink
I am the king of the blues
I scape the clay off my shoes
And wade down the gutter and the moon
The moon blinds my eye with opal cataracts
As I cut through the saw-mills and [Bm]the stacks,
Leaping over the gully where I would one day take Lucy
Then wash up my [A]hands in the gutter and [Bm]the moon.
Such a long [Am]way from home, just me and
The moon [C7]is in the gutter
All my [A]plans are flushed down the drain
I wander lonely as a cloud
Over memories at her mound
Then lie down in the bitter gutter moon.
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