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artyści zagraniczni > W > Waits Tom > Potter's Field
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Potter's Field

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well you can buy me a drink and i'll tell you what i seen

and i'll give you a bargain from the edge of a maniac's dream

that buys a black widow spider with a riddle in his yarn

that's clinging to the furrow of a blindman's brow

i'll start talking from the brim of a thimble full of whiskey

on a train through the bronx that will take you just as far

as the empty of a bottle to the highway of a scar

that stretched across the blacktop of my cheek like that

and then ducks beneath the brim of a fugitive's hat

and you'll learn why liquor makes a stool pigeon rat on every face

that ever left his shadow down on saint marks place



hell i'd double cross my mother if it was whiskey that they payed

and so an early bird says nightsticks on the hit parade

and he ain't got a prayer and his days are numbered

and you'll track him down like a dog

well it's a tough customer you're getting in this trade

cause the nightstick's heart pumps lemonade

well whiskey keeps a blindman talkin alright

and i'm the only one who knows just where he stayed last night




he was in a wreckin yard in a switchblade storm

in a wheelbarrow with nothing but revenge to keep him warm

and a half a million dollars in unmarked bills

was the nightstick's blanket in a febuary chill

and as the buzzard drove a crooked sky

he was dealin high chicago in the mud

and stackin' the deck against a dragnet's eye

a shivering nightstick in a miserable heap

with the siren for a lullaby singing him to sleep

he was bleeding from a buttonhole

torn by a slug fired from the barrel of a two dollar gun

that scorched a blister on the grip of a punk by now

is learnin what you have to pay to be a hero anyhow



he dressed the hole in his gut with a hundred dollar bandage

a king's ransom for a bedspread that don't amount to nuttin

just cobweb strings on a busted ukulele

and the nightstick leaned on a black shillelagh

with the poison of a junkie's broken promise on his lip



he staggered in the shadows screaming i ain't never been afraid

and he shot out every street light on the promenade

past the frozen ham and eggers at the penny arcade

throwin out handfuls of a blood stained salary


they were dead in their tracks at the shootin gallery

and they fired off a twenty one gun salute

and from the corner of his eye he caught the alabaster orbs

and from a dime a dance hall girl and stuffed a thousand dollar bill

in her blouse and caught the cruel and unusual punishment of her smile

and the nightstick winked beneath a rainsoaked brim

ain't no one seen hide nor hair of him see

no one but a spade on rikers island and me

and so if you're mad enough to listen to a full of whiskey blindman

then you're mad enough to look beyond where bloodhounds dare to go

so if you want to know just where the nightstick's hidin out

you be down at the ferry landin oh let's say bout half past a nightmare

when it's twisted on a clock you tell 'em nickels sentcha

whiskey always makes him talk

and you ask for captain charon with the mud on his kicks

he's the skipper of the deadline steamer

and she sails from the bronx across the river styx

and a riddle's just a ticket for a dreamer



cause when the weathervane's sleepin and the moon turns his back

you crawl on your belly long the railroad tracks

and cross your heart and hope to die and stick a needle in your eye

cause he'd cut my bleedin heart out if he found out that i squealed

cause you see a scarecrow's just a hoodlum

who marked the cards that he dealed

and pulled a gypsy switch

out on the edge of potter's field






Waits Tom
Potter's Field

tekst dodał: robex
data dodania: 07-06-2007
wyświetleń: 95
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