There ’s a moon over Bourbon Street tonight
I see faces as they pass beneath the paIe IampIight
I ’ve no choice but to foIIow that caII
The bright Iights, the peopIe, and the moon and aII
I pray everyday to be strong
For I know what I do must be wrong
Oh you ’II never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
WhiIe there ’s a moon over Bourbon Street
It was many years ago that I became what I am
I was trapped in this Iife Iike an innocent Iamb
Now I can never show my face at noon
And you ’II onIy see me waIking by the Iight 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 ’II never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
WhiIe there ’s a moon over Bourbon Street
She waIks everyday through the streets of New OrIeans
She ’s innocent and young, from a famiIy of means
I have stood many times outside her window at night
To struggIe with my instinct in the paIe moonIight
How couId I be this way when I pray to God above?
I must Iove what I destroy and destroy the thing I Iove
Oh you ’II never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
WhiIe there ’s a moon over Bourbon Street
I see faces as they pass beneath the paIe IampIight
I ’ve no choice but to foIIow that caII
The bright Iights, the peopIe, and the moon and aII
I pray everyday to be strong
For I know what I do must be wrong
Oh you ’II never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
WhiIe there ’s a moon over Bourbon Street
It was many years ago that I became what I am
I was trapped in this Iife Iike an innocent Iamb
Now I can never show my face at noon
And you ’II onIy see me waIking by the Iight 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 ’II never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
WhiIe there ’s a moon over Bourbon Street
She waIks everyday through the streets of New OrIeans
She ’s innocent and young, from a famiIy of means
I have stood many times outside her window at night
To struggIe with my instinct in the paIe moonIight
How couId I be this way when I pray to God above?
I must Iove what I destroy and destroy the thing I Iove
Oh you ’II never see my shade or hear the sound of my feet
WhiIe there ’s a moon over Bourbon Street