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I remember his hat tilted forward |
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His glasses are folded in his vest |
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And he seems like the kind of man who beats his horses |
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Or the dancers who work at a bar |
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We saw on the screen his face for a moment |
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No time to plead or even ask why |
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Jack ruby appeared from out of nowhere |
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Then disappeared in broad daylight |
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'cause he's a friend of that cloven-hoofed gangster the devil |
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He's been seen with the sheriff and the police |
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Drinking whiskey and water after hours, saying |
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"let's do business, boys. the drinks are on me." |
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So draw the box along quickly |
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Avert your eyes with shame |
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Let us stand and speak of the weather |
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And pretend nothing ever happened on that day |
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Grant us the luxury, 'cause all our heroes are bastards |
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Grant us the luxury, 'cause all our heroes are thieves |
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Of the innocence of the afternoons |
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Now we think it's a virtue to simply survive |
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But it feels like this calm it's decaying |
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It's collapsing under its own weight |
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And i think its your friend the hangman coming |
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Choking back a laugh, a drunkard swaggering to your door |
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Now do you feel that cold, icy presence? |
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In the morning with coffee and with bread |
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Do you feel it in the movement of traffic |
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And days are terrible, simply forget |
