Moon Over Bourbon Street.kar

There's a moon over Bourbon Street tonight.
I see faces as they pass
beneath the pale lamplight.

I've no choice but to follow that call,
the bright lights, the people,
and the moon and all.

I pray every day to be strong,
for I know what I do must be wrong.

Oh, you'll never see my shade
or hear the sound of my feet
while there's a moon over Bourbon Street.

It was many years ago that I became what I am.
I was trapped in this life like an innocent lamb.

Now I can never show my face at noon,
and you'll only see me walking
by the light of the moon.

The brim of my hat hides the eye of a beast.
I've the face of a sinner but the hands of a priest.

Oh, you'll never see my shade
or hear the sound of my feet
while there's a moon over Bourbon Street.

She walks every day
through the streets of New Orleans.

She's innocent and young,
from a fam'ly of means.

I have stood many times
outside her window at night
to struggle with my instinct in the pale moonlight.

How could I be this way
when I pray to God above?

I must love what I destroy
and destroy the thing I love.

Oh, you'll never see my shade
or hear the sound of my feet
while there's a moon over Bourbon Street.