(A long, long way to go till) Sunday Morning

Talk of gangsters at the abbey
when no one wants to know
how they're gonna make it
past the beer that gets them tho'
    
       when they're reeling on their feet
       and out puking on the street

   and it's a long long way to go
   till Sunday morning
   it's a prime-time thing to do
   for the people at the bar
   to take their hatred out on you

and there's snakeskins in the pantry
and somebody's crazy about
that skinny kid a-begging
for the mercy of the crowd

          and they're dancing all around
          but the right steps can't be found
     refr.

Too many smoke-rings near the ceiling
pools of vomit on the floor
there's a dry-eyed woman wailing
"this place is rotten to the core"

           sleezy gossip in the shadows
           why not just erect the gallows ?

    refr.


1979.