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