The Mountain Goats
"Sax Rohmer #1"

Fog lifts from the harbor, dawn goes down to day
An agent crests the shadows of a nearby alleyway
Piles of broken bricks, signposts on the path
Every moments points toward the aftermath

Sailors straggle back from their nights out on the town
Hopeless urchins from the city gather around
Spies from imperial China wash in with the tide
Every battle heads toward surrender on both sides

And I am coming home to you
With my own blood in my mouth
And I coming home to you
If it's the last thing that I do

Bells ring in the tower, wolves howl in the hills
Chalk marks show up on a few high windowsills
And a rabbit gives up somewhere and a dozen hawks descend
Every moment leads toward its own sad end

Ships loosed from their moorings capsize and then they're gone
Sailors with no captains watch a while and then move on
And an agent crests the shadows and I head in her direction
All roads lead toward the same blocked intersection

I am coming home to you
With my own blood in my mouth
And I am coming home to you
If it's the last thing that I do