Moon Over Bourbon Street
It's 1918, and Spike is living in New Orleans, Louisiana. The only thing that brightens up his dim life is a young French-Cajun girl, Maria Antoine Thibedeux.
But she doesn't even know who he is.
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 every day 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 only 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 moon light.
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.
I do not own the character, Spike, or the lyrics to Moon Over Bourbon Street. However, plotline, and Maria Antoine Thibedeux belongs to me.
But she doesn't even know who he is.
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 every day 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 only 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 moon light.
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.
I do not own the character, Spike, or the lyrics to Moon Over Bourbon Street. However, plotline, and Maria Antoine Thibedeux belongs to me.