Potter`s Field

<br>well you can buy me a drink and i`ll tell you what i seen<br>and i`ll give you a bargain from the edge of a maniac`s dream<br>that buys a black widow spider with a riddle in his yarn<br>that`s clinging to the furrow of a blindman`s brow<br>i`ll start talking from the brim of a thimble full of whiskey<br>on a train through the bronx that will take you just as far<br>as the empty of a bottle to the highway of a scar<br>that stretched across the blacktop of my cheek like that<br>and then ducks beneath the brim of a fugitive`s hat<br>and you`ll learn why liquor makes a stool pigeon rat on every face<br>that ever left his shadow down on saint marks place<br>hell i`d double cross my mother if it was whiskey that they payed<br>and so an early bird says nightsticks on the hit parade<br>and he ain`t got a prayer and his days are numbered<br>and you`ll track him down like a dog<br>well it`s a tough customer you`re getting in this trade<br>cause the nightstick`s heart pumps lemonade<br>well whiskey keeps a blindman talkin alright<br>and i`m the only one who knows just where he stayed last night<br><br>he was in a wreckin yard in a switchblade storm<br>in a wheelbarrow with nothing but revenge to keep him warm<br>and a half a million dollars in unmarked bills<br>was the nightstick`s blanket in a febuary chill<br>and as the buzzard drove a crooked sky<br>he was dealin high chicago in the mud<br>and stackin` the deck against a dragnet`s eye<br>a shivering nightstick in a miserable heap<br>with the siren for a lullaby singing him to sleep<br>he was bleeding from a buttonhole<br>torn by a slug fired from the barrel of a two dollar gun<br>that scorched a blister on the grip of a punk by now<br>is learnin what you have to pay to be a hero anyhow<br><br>he dressed the hole in his gut with a hundred dollar bandage<br>a king`s ransom for a bedspread that don`t amount to nuttin<br>just cobweb strings on a busted ukulele<br>and the nightstick leaned on a black shillelagh<br>with the poison of a junkie`s broken promise on his lip<br><br>he staggered in the shadows screaming i ain`t never been afraid<br>and he shot out every street light on the promenade<br>past the frozen ham and eggers at the penny arcade<br>throwin out handfuls of a blood stained salary<br>they were dead in their tracks at the shootin gallery<br>and they fired off a twenty one gun salute<br>and from the corner of his eye he caught the alabaster orbs<br>and from a dime a dance hall girl and stuffed a thousand dollar bill<br>in her blouse and caught the cruel and unusual punishment of her smile<br>and the nightstick winked beneath a rainsoaked brim<br>ain`t no one seen hide nor hair of him see<br>no one but a spade on rikers island and me<br>and so if you`re mad enough to listen to a full of whiskey blindman<br>then you`re mad enough to look beyond where bloodhounds dare to go<br>so if you want to know just where the nightstick`s hidin out<br>you be down at the ferry landin oh let`s say bout half past a nightmare<br>when it`s twisted on a clock you tell `em nickels sentcha<br>whiskey always makes him talk<br>and you ask for captain charon with the mud on his kicks<br>he`s the skipper of the deadline steamer<br>and she sails from the bronx across the river styx<br>and a riddle`s just a ticket for a dreamer<br><br>cause when the weathervane`s sleepin and the moon turns his back<br>you crawl on your belly long the railroad tracks<br>and cross your heart and hope to die and stick a needle in your eye<br>cause he`d cut my bleedin heart out if he found out that i squealed<br>cause you see a scarecrow`s just a hoodlum<br>who marked the cards that he dealed<br>and pulled a gypsy switch<br>out on the edge of potter`s field