I remember his hat tilted forward
|
His glasses are folded in his vest
|
And he seems like the kind of man who beats his horses
|
Or the dancers who work at a bar
|
We saw on the screen his face for a moment
|
No time to plead or even ask why
|
Jack Ruby appeared from out of nowhere
|
Then disappeared in broad daylight
|
'Cause he's a friend of that cloven-hoofed gangster the devil
|
He's been seen with the sheriff and the police
|
Drinking whiskey and water after hours, saying
|
"Let's do business, boys. The drinks are on me."
|
So draw the box along quickly
|
Avert your eyes with shame
|
Let us stand and speak of the weather
|
And pretend nothing ever happened on that day
|
Grant us the luxury, 'cause all our heroes are bastards
|
Grant us the luxury, 'cause all our heroes are thieves
|
Of the innocence of the afternoons
|
Now we think it's a virtue to simply survive
|
But it feels like this calm it's decaying
|
It's collapsing under its own weight
|
And I think its your friend the hangman coming
|
Choking back a laugh, a drunkard swaggering to your door
|
Now do you feel that cold, icy presence?
|
In the morning with coffee and with bread
|
Do you feel in the movement of traffic
|
And days a terrible significance
|
|
-----------------
|
Jack Ruby
|
| Camper Van Beethoven |
