In Liverpool on Sunday
  No traffic on the avenue
  The light is pale and thin
  Like You
  No sound, down in this part of town.

  Except for the boy in the belfry
  He's crazy, he's throwing himself
  Down from the top of the tower
  Like a hunchback in heaven
  He's ringing the bells in the church
  For the last half an hour
  He sounds like he's missing something
  Or someone that he knows he can't have now
  And if he isn't
  I certainly am.

  Homesick for a clock
  That told the same time
  Sometimes you made no sense to me
  If you lie on the ground in somebody's arms
  You'll probably swallow some of their history.

  And the boy in the belfry
  He's crazy, he's throwing himself
  Down from the top of the tower
  Like a hunchback in heaven
  He's ringing the bells in the church
  For the last half an hour
  He sounds like he's missing something
  Or someone that he knows he can't have now
  And if he isn't
  I certainly am.

  I'll be the girl who sings for my supper
  You'll be the monk whose forehead is high
  He'll be the man who's already working
  Spreading a memory all through the sky

  In Liverpool on Sunday
  No reason to even remember you now.
  Except for the boy in the belfry
  He's crazy, he's throwing himself
  Down from the top of the tower
  Like a hunchback in heaven
  He's ringing the bells in the church
  For the last half an hour
  He sounds like he's missing something
  Or someone that he knows he can't have now
  And if he isn't
  I certainly am.

  In Liverpool
  In Liverpool