Lyric Potter s Field
Potter s Field
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 paid
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 talking alright
and I m the only one who knows just where he stayed last night
he was in a wrecking 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 February chill
and as the buzzard drove a crooked sky
he was dealing high Chicago in the mud
and stacking 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 learning 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
throwing out handfuls of a blood stained salary
they were dead in their tracks at the shooting 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 hiding out
you be down at the ferry landing 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 captaing 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 sleeping 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 bleeding 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
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 paid
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 talking alright
and I m the only one who knows just where he stayed last night
he was in a wrecking 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 February chill
and as the buzzard drove a crooked sky
he was dealing high Chicago in the mud
and stacking 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 learning 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
throwing out handfuls of a blood stained salary
they were dead in their tracks at the shooting 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 hiding out
you be down at the ferry landing 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 captaing 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 sleeping 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 bleeding 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
