- Votes:
 - Composers:
 - Tom Waits
 - Bob Alcivar
 
- Genres:
 - Jazz
 
- Tags:
 - experimental
 - q narf
 - singer songwriter
 - tom waits
 
- See also:
 
Tom Waits - Potter's Field lyrics
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 blind man'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
 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 Nightstick's on the hit parade
 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
 And whiskey keeps a blind man 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 February chill
 And as the buzzard drove a crooked sky
 Beneath a black wing halo
 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 bandageTom Waits - Potter's Field - http://motolyrics.com/tom-waits/potters-field-lyrics.html
 A king's ransom for a bedspread that don't amount to nuthin'
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
 And 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 Riker's Island and me
 And so if you're mad enough to listen to a full of whiskey blind man
 Then you're mad enough to look beyond where bloodhounds dare to go
 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
 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 weather vane'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, it's just a hoodlum
 Who marked the cards that he dealed
 And pulled a gypsy switch
 Out on the edge of Potter's Field














