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 gathering round the block
Eyes as yet unshattered bythe rising shock
Quick, ready, lives that are still untried
Untried
Like the white bitter wine of the moon