Capo 1st fret

Standard (EADGBE)

Intro

Verse

Lady weeping at the crossroads,

Would you meet your love

In twilight with his greyhounds,

And the hawk upon his glove?

Bribe the bird then on the branches,

Bribe them to be dumb,

Stare the hot sun out of heaven

That the night may come.

Chorus

Starless are the nights of travel,

Bleak the winter wind;

Run with terror all before you

And regret behind.

Run until you hear the ocean's

Everlasting cry;

Deep though it may be and bitter

You must drink it dry,

Drink it dry

Verse

Wear out patience in the lowest

Dungeons of the sea,

Searching through the stranded shipwrecks

For the golden key,

Push on to the world's end, pay the

Dread guard with a kiss

Cross the rotten bridge that totters

Over the abyss.

Chorus

There stands the deserted castle

Ready to explore;

Enter, climb the marble staircase,

Open the locked door.

Cross the silent empty ballroom

Doubt and anger past;

Blow the cobwebs from the mirror,

See yourself at last.

Verse

Put your hand behind the wainscot,

You have done your part;

Find the penknife there and plunge it

Into your false heart

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Lyrics:

Lady weeping at the crossroads,

Would you meet your love

In twilight with his greyhounds,

And the hawk upon his glove?

Bribe the bird then on the branches,

Bribe them to be dumb,

Stare the hot sun out of heaven

That the night may come.

Starless are the nights of travel,

Bleak the winter wind;

Run with terror all before you

And regret behind.

Run until you hear the ocean's

Everlasting cry;

Deep though it may be and bitter

You must drink it dry,

Wear out patience in the lowest

Dungeons of the sea,

Searching through the stranded shipwrecks

For the golden key,

Push on to the world's end, pay the

Dread guard with a kiss

Cross the rotten bridge that totters

Over the abyss.

There stands the deserted castle

Ready to explore;

Enter, climb the marble staircase,

Open the locked door.

Cross the silent empty ballroom

Doubt and anger past;

Blow the cobwebs from the mirror,

See yourself at last.

Put your hand behind the wainscot,

You have done your part;

Find the penknife there and plunge it

Into your false heart

| Raileff |