When the clocks strike

at last you gotta be in fever

I've gotta leave home too

when the last train's gone

We slide in the tattered town

and we float on the edge of time

Screaming eyes and glowing fever

When the ghost of the town

rolls around in fever

And the sky spreads a hundred thousand tears

A dealer's mumbling

a prayer bells are jangling a hell off a lay

When bells ring out you find me in fever

Well, just keep on movin

the full moon tells you where to go

Well, just keep on moving

'cause the devil's never gonna say:

you're wrong

There's a poet with his poem

what a poor boy!

He's stumbling with his muse right beside

He offers his poem some wine

his eyes have infernal shine

this fallen minstrel singing of fever

Heaving sin in my skin is shaking in fever

The fall in your arms gets hot

it's sweating love

We drift on the breath of the night

A million sighs in the pale yellow light

the need is begging for fever

Well, just keep on moving

The full moon tells you where to go

Well, just keep on moving

'cause the devïl's never gonna say:

You're wrong