Shakey Davey's got a twelve gauge in his hand

It's sawed off to the limit

He's got a vague plan

There's this liquor store on Madison

There's another one down on Washington square

He's pretty sure no one's ever seen him

Down around there



The first one's birdshot the next four are double aught buck

The last one's a slug just for good luck

He's got his works in his pocket

He wants to score as soon as he's done

He can't wait to get straight to get long gone



He puts on his long coat scribbles off a short note

Sits himself down and waits for the sun to go down



It's right around midnight and there's still too damn many people on this street

He's walked all the way from Battery Park he's got sweaty hands and burnin' feet

He's desperate for a fix

His body's screamin' "Get me high"

He bursts through the door and lets one fly



Sunrise in the park and Davey's cold as stone

He got some bad merchandise and he was all alone

Two more unsolved mysteries a iot of paper pushed around

Most folks are just wakin' up in this great big town