Moon Over Bourbon Street

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 everyday 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 everyday through the streets of New Orleans.

She’s innocent and young, from a family 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.

Written by Sting. From The Dream of the Blue Turtles.

Copyright © 1985, A&M Records. All rights reserved.

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