Christ, that was a crazy old man,
Cranky, with rancid wino breath
And darkness of death around him.
The brim of that funky fedora,
Those clunky black Dingo boots,
Thick cheroots smoldering on his lips:
He was in cahoots with the very devil.
Still, despite his evil, leering eyes,
The chill in his every whispered word,
Something stirred down in my gut.
The rut I was in, this wretched town—
When down fell that old drunk fool,
Every rule I’d lived by fell too.
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