Sax Rohmer #1 - The Mountain Goats

Fog lifts from the harbor, dawn goes down to day

An agent crests the shadows of the nearby alleyway

Piles of broken bricks, sign posts on the path

Every moment points towards the aftermath

Yeah ah ah

Sailors straggle back from their nights out on the town

Hopeless urchins from the city gather around

Spies from imperial China wash in with the tide

Every battle heads toward surrender on both sides

And I am coming home to you

With my own blood in my mouth

And I am coming home to you

If it’s the last thing that I do

Bells ring in the tower, wolves howl in the hills

Chalk marks show up on a few high windowsills

And a rabbit gives up somewhere, and a dozen hawks descend

Every moment leads toward its own sad end

Yeah ah ah

Ships loosed from their moorings capsize and then they’re gone

Sailors with no captains watch awhile and then move on

And an agent crests the shadows and I head in her direction

All roads lead toward the same blocked intersection

I am coming home to you

With my own blood in my mouth

And I am coming home to you

If it’s the last thing that I do