Potter's Field Lyrics

Potter's Field (Tom Waits/Bob Alcivar 1977)
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 blindman's brow And I'll start talking from the brim of a thimble full of whisky 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 And 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 whisky that they paid And so an early bird says nightsticks on the hit parade And 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 Well whisky keeps a blindman talking alright And I'm the only one who knows just where he stayed last night He was in a wrecking 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 Febuary chill And the buzzards drove a crooked sky beneath a black wing halo He was dealing high Chicago in the mud And stacking the deck against a dragnet's eye A shivering nightstick in a miserable heap With the siren for a lullaby singing him to sleep 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 learning what you have to pay to be a hero anyhow He dressed the hole in his gut with a hundred dollar bandage A king's ransom for a bedspread that don't amount to nothing 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 throwing out handfuls of a blood stained salary They were dead in their tracks at the shooting gallery And they fired off a twenty one gun salute And from the corner of his eye he caught the alabaster orbs 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 Rikers island and me And so if you're mad enough to listen to a full of whisky blindman Then you're mad enough to look beyond where bloodhounds dare to go And if you want to know where the nightstick's hiding out You be down at the ferry landin oh let's say about half past a nightmare When it's twisted on a clock you tell 'em nickels sent you Whisky always makes him talk And 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 weathervane's sleeping 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 bleeding heart out if he found out that I squealed Cause you see a scarecrow is just a hoodlum Who marked the cards that he dealed and pulled a gypsy switch Out on the edge of Potter's field
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Potter's Field
(Tom Waits/Bob Alcivar 1977)

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 blindman's brow
And I'll start talking from the brim of a thimble full of whisky
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
And 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 whisky that they paid
And so an early bird says nightsticks on the hit parade
And 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
Well whisky keeps a blindman talking alright
And I'm the only one who knows just where he stayed last night

He was in a wrecking 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 Febuary chill
And the buzzards drove a crooked sky beneath a black wing halo
He was dealing high Chicago in the mud
And stacking the deck against a dragnet's eye
A shivering nightstick in a miserable heap
With the siren for a lullaby singing him to sleep
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 learning what you have to pay to be a hero anyhow

He dressed the hole in his gut with a hundred dollar bandage
A king's ransom for a bedspread that don't amount to nothing
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 throwing out handfuls of a blood stained salary
They were dead in their tracks at the shooting gallery
And they fired off a twenty one gun salute
And from the corner of his eye he caught the alabaster orbs
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 Rikers island and me

And so if you're mad enough to listen to a full of whisky blindman
Then you're mad enough to look beyond where bloodhounds dare to go
And if you want to know where the nightstick's hiding out
You be down at the ferry landin oh let's say about half past a nightmare
When it's twisted on a clock you tell 'em nickels sent you
Whisky always makes him talk
And 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 weathervane's sleeping 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 bleeding heart out if he found out that I squealed
Cause you see a scarecrow is just a hoodlum
Who marked the cards that he dealed and pulled a gypsy switch
Out on the edge of Potter's field

Reviews