Gone 'Til November Lyrics

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(Music: Bowie/Eno - Lyrics: Bowie)

Baby Grace is the victim
She was 14 years of age
And the wheels are turning, turning
For the finger points at me
All's well
But I have not been to Oxford Town
All's well
No I have not been to Oxford Town

CHORUS
Toll the bell
Pay the private eye
All's well
20th century dies

And the prison priests are decent
My attorney seems sincere
I fear my days are numbered
Lord get me out of here
All's well
But I have not been to Oxford Town
All's well
But I have not been to Oxford Town

CHORUS
This is your shadow on my wall
This is my flesh and blood
This is what I could've been

And the wheels are turning and turning
As the 20th century dies

If I had not ripped the fabric
If time had not stood still
If I had not met Ramona
If I'd only paid my bill
All's well
But I have not been to Oxford Town
All's well
But I have not been to Oxford Town

CHORUS
This is my bunk with two sheets
This is my food though foul
This is what I could have been

CHORUS (ad lib.)

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Gone 'Til November Lyrics

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(Music: Bowie/Eno - Lyrics: Bowie)  
  
Baby Grace is the victim  
She was 14 years of age  
And the wheels are turning, turning  
For the finger points at me  
All's well  
But I have not been to Oxford Town  
All's well  
No I have not been to Oxford Town  
  
CHORUS  
Toll the bell  
Pay the private eye  
All's well  
20th century dies  
  
And the prison priests are decent  
My attorney seems sincere  
I fear my days are numbered  
Lord get me out of here  
All's well  
But I have not been to Oxford Town  
All's well  
But I have not been to Oxford Town  
  
CHORUS  
This is your shadow on my wall  
This is my flesh and blood  
This is what I could've been  
  
And the wheels are turning and turning  
As the 20th century dies  
  
If I had not ripped the fabric  
If time had not stood still  
If I had not met Ramona  
If I'd only paid my bill  
All's well  
But I have not been to Oxford Town  
All's well  
But I have not been to Oxford Town  
  
CHORUS  
This is my bunk with two sheets  
This is my food though foul  
This is what I could have been  
  
CHORUS (ad lib.)

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