The Perfect Crime #2 - The Decemberists, Junior Boys

Sing, muse, of the passion of the pistol

Sing, muse, of the warning by the whistle

On a night so dark in the waning

A dawn obscured by slate sky raining

Five and twenty burglars by the reservoir

A teenage lookout on the signal tower

The mogul's daughter in hogtie

The mogul fingers the wrong guy, all lies

It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect , the perfect, perfect crime

It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime

It was a perfect crime

The bagman's quaking at the fingers

The hand-off glance a little lingers

A well-dressed man in the crosshairs

A shot rings out from somewhere upstairs

It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime

It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime

It was the perfect crime

It was like a ticker-tape parade

When the plastique on the safe was blown away

And we all gazed from eye to eye

As we mouthed our silent goodbyes

The valley's sleeping like a bastard

It stinks of slumber and disaster

Two words are spoken on the tap wire

The agent's ploy finds a surefire backfire

It was a perfect, perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime

It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime

It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect,

the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime