The city’s swept under a carpet of lights.
The boys in the band are drained into sight.
There’s a sigh in the sidewalk as the opens close
and one man’s garbage is a couple warm rolls.
I feel like a spring flower surprised by the cold.
Come on too strong. Come on too bold.
I chased my own. Now the tale is told,
but don’t roll the sad ending
there’s so much to go.
I’ll be a goodtime gambler, guitar picker, perfect stranger,
lonely trickster.
In storefront windows, I walk by myself.
I could float down the gutter to the nevrdowell.
I could go down to the playhouse
where the lovers meet.
See who sits alone and take a seat.
I tell myself we’ll flip a coin to chose.
Heads I win. Tails you lose.
Tale’s I hop the gutter cause the baby I need,
she’s down in the well, ne’r-to-be.
And who’s not in love with the Butcher Girl?
How many men leave their mark on the world?
And out of them that do, how many deserve
to be wining and dining and holding her.
Let my love fall flat and seem dumb.
I need a reason to go. I need a reason to run.
I need a song to sing and a tune to strum.
I face my home in the East as I hold out my thumb.