Favourite Hour Lyrics - 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 

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Now there's 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 

Photos 

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