The Perfect Crime #2-The Decemberists

Sing muse of the passion of the pistol Sing muse of the warning by the whistle On a night so dark in the waning A dawn obscured by slight sky raining, oh oh Five and twenty burglars by the reservoir A teenage lookout on the signal tower The moguls daughter in hard time The mogul figures a one guy, one guys It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime The bagman's quaking at the fingers The hand-off glance a little lingers A well-dressed man in the crosshairs A shot rings out from somewhere upstairs It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime It was the perfect crime It was like a ticker-tape parade When the plastique on the safe was blown away And we all gaze from eye to eye As we mouth our silent goodbyes The valley's sleeping like a bastard It stinks of slumber and disaster Two words are spoken with tap wire The agent's pull finds a surefire backfire It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the