Text: Patrick Wolf. Lupercalia. Armistice.

[Coat of black, coat of black]
[Weary waiting, weary waiting]

I turn out the light,
We kiss goodnight.
And weary waiting,
Weary waiting to come closer,
Closer to where we belong.

Outside, the city children brandish,
Sharp, their knives - sharpen knives,
And come closer,
Closer to where we belong.

If you'll be weak,
Then I'll be strong.
When the night is long.

Trust all the years you'll wait to find,
This man, who's loved you your whole life,
So come closer,
Closer to where we belong.

Just close your eyes,
Let those foxes fight.
The children of this city sharp their knives [come closer],
Closer to where we belong.

And if I be weak,
Won't you be strong?
When the night is long.

If I'll be weak,
Chomreedhoo, chomreedhoo*.
When the night is long.

Close your eyes,
Let the foxes fight.
Close your eyes,
Come closer to where we belong.

Where we belong,
When the night is long.
When the night is long.

[*Manx Gaelic for 'coat of black']