Sing, Muse, of the passion of the pistol
Sing, Muse, of the warning by the whistle
On a night so dark and waning
dawn obscured by slate sky raining, oh, oh

Five and twenty burglars by the reservoir
teenage lookout on the signal tower
The mogul's daughter in hog-tie
The mogul fingers the wrong guy, all right

It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime
It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime

The bagman's quaking at the fingers
The hand-off glance a little lingers
well-dressed man in the crosshairs
shot rings out from somewhere upstairs

It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime
It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime

It was the perfect crime

It was like a ticker-tape parade
When the plastique on the safe was blown away
And we all gaze from eye to eye
As we mouth our silent goodbyes

The valley's sleeping like a [bad word] It stinks of slumber and disaster
Two words are spoken with tap wire
The agent's pull finds a surefire backfire

It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime
It was a perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect, the perfect crime