Gulf Moon

(álbum: Songs For The Saints - 2018)

A corner dive down on the square
Where the windows hang with a neon flare
Regulars shoot horse and pool
While the barmaid wishes the place half full
She works the jar with a discount flirt
With a faded Houston Oilers shirt
While an old crow sings down on the stage
Thumbing the chords on a crinkled page
He plays his Zevon tune
Beneath the gulf moon

Take a walk down along the wall
You'll go right on past the carnival
Hand in hand with the keeper kind
The kind that ties to the ties that bind
They don't care for the carnie man
Or the fortune teller that reads your hand
They just beeline for a bungalow
Where the curtains flutter
And candles glow in the heart of June
Beneath the gulf moon

Here I'm on a midnight porch
Looking up at a butane torch
That hangs behind a black expanse
Where the stars flicker and planets dance
It is probably time I pack it in
With a glass half-full of Jameson
Well I was born to croon
I might as well
Beneath the gulf moon

Down by the jetty near the Balinese Pier
The curmudgeons drink the yellow belly beer
And they bitch about the price of gas
And the fish that they can't seem to catch
They blame it on the islands way down south
From the bayou marsh and the delta mouth
Where the choppers are rollin and tankers come
In the midnight daze for the oil drum
They can't leave too soon
Beneath the gulf moon