Evil eye of Fletcher Carnaby comes
Lid heavy, his pace is slow
Slow paced, lid heavy and tired
Yes tired
Like the beaten-in head of a drum
The evil lines on the face that this man wears
Cannot now be distinguished from the lines of care
Care-lined, eyes heavy and tired
Looking for a face
From a place no one comes from
Crazy Harry, switchblade parking his knife
Shining steel reflects a future wife
Who waits ready, eyes steady as night
Yes steady
Like only the caved-in can
Sunshine peddlers are gathering round the block
Eyes as yet unshattered by the rising shock
Quick, ready, lives that are still untried
Untried
Like the white bitter wine of the moon