From a Deadbeat to an Old Greaser
π΅ 901 characters
β±οΈ 4:10 duration
π ID: 9191348
π Lyrics
From a dead beat to an old greaser, here's thinking of you.
You won't remember the long nights;
coffee bars; black tights and white thighs
in shop windows where blonde assistants fully-fashioned a world
made of dummies (with no mommies or daddies to reject them).
When bombs were banned every Sunday and the Shadows played F.B.I.
And tired young sax-players sold their instruments of torture ---
sat in the station sharing wet dreams of Charlie Parker,
Jack Kerouac, RenΓ© Magritte, to name a few of the heroes
who were too wise for their own good --- left the young brood to
go on living without them.
Old queers with young faces --- who remember your name,
though you're a dead beat with tired feet;
two ends that don't meet.
To a dead beat from an old greaser.
Think you must have me all wrong.
I didn't care, friend. I wasn't there, friend,
If it's the price of pint that you need, ask me again.
You won't remember the long nights;
coffee bars; black tights and white thighs
in shop windows where blonde assistants fully-fashioned a world
made of dummies (with no mommies or daddies to reject them).
When bombs were banned every Sunday and the Shadows played F.B.I.
And tired young sax-players sold their instruments of torture ---
sat in the station sharing wet dreams of Charlie Parker,
Jack Kerouac, RenΓ© Magritte, to name a few of the heroes
who were too wise for their own good --- left the young brood to
go on living without them.
Old queers with young faces --- who remember your name,
though you're a dead beat with tired feet;
two ends that don't meet.
To a dead beat from an old greaser.
Think you must have me all wrong.
I didn't care, friend. I wasn't there, friend,
If it's the price of pint that you need, ask me again.
β±οΈ Synced Lyrics
[00:06.54] From a dead beat to an old greaser, here's thinking of you.
[00:23.19] You won't remember the long nights;
[00:32.34] Coffee bars; black tights and white thighs
[00:44.41] In shop windows where blonde assistants fully-fashioned a world
[00:57.59] Made of dummies (with no mommies or daddies to reject them).
[01:14.65] When bombs were banned every Sunday and the Shadows played F.B.I.
[01:31.02] And tired young sax-players sold their instruments of torture ---
[01:39.52] Sat in the station sharing wet dreams of Charlie Parker,
[01:52.74] Jack Kerouac, RenΓ© Magritte, to name a few of the heroes
[02:08.69] Who were too wise for their own good --- left the young brood to
[02:18.04] Go on living without them.
[02:26.91]
[02:56.88] Old queers with young faces --- who remember your name,
[03:12.94] Though you're a dead beat with tired feet;
[03:22.04] Two ends that don't meet.
[03:30.19] To a dead beat from an old greaser.
[03:40.39] Think you must have me all wrong.
[03:46.75] I didn't care, friend. I wasn't there, friend,
[03:54.94] If it's the price of pint that you need, ask me again.
[04:01.57]
[00:23.19] You won't remember the long nights;
[00:32.34] Coffee bars; black tights and white thighs
[00:44.41] In shop windows where blonde assistants fully-fashioned a world
[00:57.59] Made of dummies (with no mommies or daddies to reject them).
[01:14.65] When bombs were banned every Sunday and the Shadows played F.B.I.
[01:31.02] And tired young sax-players sold their instruments of torture ---
[01:39.52] Sat in the station sharing wet dreams of Charlie Parker,
[01:52.74] Jack Kerouac, RenΓ© Magritte, to name a few of the heroes
[02:08.69] Who were too wise for their own good --- left the young brood to
[02:18.04] Go on living without them.
[02:26.91]
[02:56.88] Old queers with young faces --- who remember your name,
[03:12.94] Though you're a dead beat with tired feet;
[03:22.04] Two ends that don't meet.
[03:30.19] To a dead beat from an old greaser.
[03:40.39] Think you must have me all wrong.
[03:46.75] I didn't care, friend. I wasn't there, friend,
[03:54.94] If it's the price of pint that you need, ask me again.
[04:01.57]