Smoking in the darkness Hiding in the shadows The wind is salty Coming off of the bay Weaving its way through the billowing stacks of smoke Coming from the factories Mixing and changing Till it reaches my nose Making me remember my innocent days Of playing on the beach Jumping Chasing the seagulls Building sand castles Walking along the shore Just before high tide Picking up sea shells To listen to the sea Those days are dead They’re just a passing phase That floats away Hitch hiking on the tails Of smoke Coming from the Pall-Mall Perched between my lips Thirteen lay smoldering at my feet Why I smoke them I do not know I feel each one burning my lungs Guess it goes along with the job What else is a man supposed to do? Waiting for a pick up In the middle of the night Oh well Let’s light another My face is illuminated momentarily As I strike a match Sirens sound in the darkness Are they after me? Did they find the body? Or did boss get caught? Thompson fire and squealing tires answer my question A car zooms past There goes my ride Guess I have to walk All the bars are closed Except O’Doul’s Down the street Maybe I’ll go in Catch up with the owner Collect on a bet I made with him Get drunk to forget my life Or meet up with Betty Got enough money for her tonight She won’t care She loves me I think Maybe I’ll ask her To marry me Move to the country Start a family Raise some cows Wake up at three in the morning Go to bed at eight at night Listen to the rooster Greeting the morning sun Sounds like a good plan I turn the corner People are standing in the street Trying to get in I could just walk in No one would stop me No one dare stop me That’s the prestige That goes along with the job I decide not to go in Just walk past “Hey, man, you got a light?” Someone asks I turn to offer him one When I hear the click of a revolver A muscle grabs me by the arms “Just keep walking buddy” “What do you….?” Crack! Blackness I see faces in the darkness Don’t know any of them Probably once did But long forgotten now I wake up My wallet is gone So are my cigarettes I get up BANG! BANG! BANG! “That’s what you get ya’ lousy thief” Will anyone come for me? When they here the shots Or does my title Make people fear me Afraid of me Will they help me? Or will they just stare Eyes wide with shock Hands trembling One man whispers to his friend “Let’s get outa here man!” The other replies “Yah man he’s a mobster He don’t need out help” Will Betty Come? Will she say she loves me? Or will she just go to work Police cars drive past Not even slowing down I guess this is the end Funny all the prestige All the money Doesn’t change the fact That I’m dead And no one will ever know That when I died I was a man Not a mobster -End-
