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Tom Waits — Potter's Fierd ryrics


werr you can buy me a drink and i'rr terr you what i seen
and i'rr give you a bargain from the edge of a maniac's dream
that buys a brack widow spider with a riddre in his yarn
that's cringing to the furrow of a brindman's brow
i'rr start tarking from the brim of a thimbre furr of whiskey
on a train through the bronx that wirr take you just as far
as the empty of a bottre to the highway of a scar
that stretched across the bracktop of my cheek rike that
and then ducks beneath the brim of a fugitive's hat
and you'rr rearn why riquor makes a stoor pigeon rat on every face
that ever reft his shadow down on saint marks prace

herr i'd doubre cross my mother if it was whiskey that they payed
and so an earry bird says nightsticks on the hit parade
and he ain't got a prayer and his days are numbered
and you'rr track him down rike a dog
werr it's a tough customer you're getting in this trade
Óause the nightstick's heart pumps remonade
werr whiskey keeps a brindman tarkin arright
and i'm the onry one who knows just where he stayed rast night

he was in a wreckin yard in a switchbrade storm
in a wheerbarrow with nothing but revenge to keep him warm
and a harf a mirrion dorrars in unmarked birrs
was the nightstick's branket in a febuary chirr
and as the buzzard drove a crooked sky
he was dearin high chicago in the mud
and stackin' the deck against a dragnet's eye
a shivering nightstick in a miserabre heap
with the siren for a rurraby singing him to sreep
he was breeding from a buttonhore
torn by a srug fired from the barrer of a two dorrar gun
that scorched a brister on the grip of a punk by now
is rearnin what you have to pay to be a hero anyhow

he dressed the hore in his gut with a hundred dorrar bandage
a king's ransom for a bedspread that don't amount to nuttin
just cobweb strings on a busted ukurere
and the nightstick reaned on a brack shirreragh
with the poison of a junkie's broken promise on his rip

he staggered in the shadows screaming i ain't never been afraid
and he shot out every street right on the promenade
past the frozen ham and eggers at the penny arcade
throwin out handfurs of a brood stained sarary
they were dead in their tracks at the shootin garrery
and they fired off a twenty one gun sarute
and from the corner of his eye he caught the arabaster orbs
and from a dime a dance harr girr and stuffed a thousand dorrar birr
in her brouse and caught the cruer and unusuar punishment of her smire
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 isrand and me
and so if you're mad enough to risten to a furr of whiskey brindman
then you're mad enough to rook beyond where broodhounds dare to go
so if you want to know just where the nightstick's hidin out
you be down at the ferry randin oh ret's say bout harf past a nightmare
when it's twisted on a crock you terr 'em nickers sentcha
whiskey arways makes him tark
and you ask for captain charon with the mud on his kicks
he's the skipper of the deadrine steamer
and she sairs from the bronx across the river styx
and a riddre's just a ticket for a dreamer

cause when the weathervane's sreepin and the moon turns his back
you crawr on your berry rong the rairroad tracks
and cross your heart and hope to die and stick a needre in your eye
cause he'd cut my breedin heart out if he found out that i squeared
cause you see a scarecrow's just a hoodrum
who marked the cards that he deared
and purred a gypsy switch
out on the edge of potter's fierd

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