Nighthawk Postcards (From Easy Street) - Tom Waits

    There's a blur drizzle down the plateglass
    as a neon swizzle stick stirrin up the sultry night air
    and a yellow biscuit of a buttery cue ball moon
    rollin' maverick across an obsidian sky
    as the busses go groanin' and wheezin',
    down on the corner I'm freezin';
    on a restless boulevard at a midnight road
    I'm across town from EASY STREET
    with the tight knots of moviegoers and out of towners
    on the stroll
    and the buildings towering high above
    lit like dominoes or black dice
    all the used car salesmen dressed up in
    Purina Checkerboard slacks
    and Foster Grant wrap-around,
    pacing in front of EARL SCHLEIB
    $39.95 merchandise
    like barkers at a shootin' gallery
    they throw out kind of a Texas Guinan routine
    "Hello sucker, we like your money
    just as well as anybody else's here"
    or they give you the P.T. Barnum bit
    "There's a sucker born every minute
    you just happened to be comin' along at the right time"
    come over here now
    you know... all the harlequin sailors are on the stroll
    in a search of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT,"
    decent factory air and AM-FM dreams
    and the piss yellow gypsy cabs
    stacked up in the taxi zones waitin' like
    pinball machines
    to be ticking off a joy ride to a magical place
    waitin' in line like "truckers welcome" diners
    with dirt lots full of
    Peterbilts, Kenworths, Jimmy's and the like, and
    they're hiballin' with bankrupt brakes, over driven
    under paid, over fed, a day late and a dollar short
    but Christ I got my lips around a bottle and
    my foot on the throttle and I'm standin' on the corner
    standin' on the corner like a "just in town"
    jasper, on a street corner with a gasper lookin'
    for some kind of Cheshire billboard grin
    stroking a goateed chin, and using parking meters
    as walking sticks on the inebriated stroll
    with my eyelids propped open at half mast
    but you know... over at Chubb's Pool Hall and Snooker
    it was a nickle after two, yea it was a nickle after two
    and in the cobalt steel blue dream smoke, it
    was the radio that groaned out the hit parade
    and the chalk squeaked, the floorboards creaked
    and an Olympia sign winked through a torn yellow
    shade, old Jack Chance himself leanin' up against
    a Wurlitzer and eyeballin' out a 5 ball combination shot
    impossible you say? ...hard to believe?, perhaps
    out of the realm of possibility? naaaa
    he be stretchin' out long tawny fingers out across a
    cool green felt with a provocative golden gate
    and a full table railshot that's no sweat and I leaned
    up against my bannister and wandered over to the
    Wurlitzer and I punched A-2 I was lookin' for
    something like Wine, Wine, Wine by the Night Caps
    starring Chuck E. Weiss or High Blood Pressure
    by George (cryin' in the streets) Perkins - no dice
    "that's life," that's what all the people say ridin' high
    in April, seriously shot down in May, but I know I'm
    gonna change that tune when I'm standing underneath
    a buttery moon that's all melted off to one side
    It was just about that time that the sun
    came crawlin' yellow out of a manhole
    at the foot of 23rd Street
    and a dracula moon in a black disguise
    was making its way back to its
    pre-paid room at the St. Moritz Hotel (scat)
    and the El train came tumbling
    across the trestles and it sounded
    like the ghost of Gene Krupa
    with an overhead cam and glasspacks
    and the whispering brushes of wet radials
    on a wet pavement and there's a
    traffic jam session on Belmont tonight
    and the rhapsody of the pending
    evening, I leaned up against
    my bannister and I've been looking
    for some kind of an emotional
    investment with romantic dividends
    kind of a physical negociation
    is underway
    as I attempt to consolidate all my
    missed weekly payments, into
    one-low-monthly payment
    through the nose
    with romantic residuals and leg akimbo
    but the chances are more than likely I'll probably
    be held over for another smashed weekend

    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words