It's a slow motion night

In the hot city lights

Past time when the good folks

Are snoring in bed

On a loose-jointed cruise

To recolor your blues

With illegal notions alive,

Alive in your head



You are back from some war

That you've been fighting for

Some old blue blood bastard

In a dark pinstripe suit

and the word from your loins

Has your mind in your groin

And your back pocket burning with blood

Blood money loot



So, you walk past the glow

Of the flicker-picture shows

Where the raincoat men wait

For a child to come by

And the women in doorways

Who have nothing to say

'Cause your money is talking

To the ones that you would try



She owns the block

With the dead pawnshop clock

She's the answer to dreams

That you pay to come true

She's got no heart of gold

But that's not what she's sold

She just sees herself doing what she

What she has to do



And she's all that you're hoping

As her coat falls open

Give her bread she leads you

To a bed on the floor

Where for ten million years

And through ten billion tears

The armies of bootmen have marched

Back from their wars



She's in that state of grace

Before time finds her face

With a mind of old wisdoms

And a body still young

And she tastes as sweet

As a child's chocolate

Before the butts and the whiskey

Had wasted the taste of your tongue



Play the music again

Of the grey-stubble men

That groaning blue symphony

Moans evermore

And you watch as she fakes it

And of course you just take it

She's better than others

You never paid money for



You've used up your booty-aca