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[ Tekst: Paul Gelsomine ]

You could always find him at the Eldarado Motel
Across the street from Jakes Coffee Shop, you know where it is
A little hole in the wall with a swimming pool that reminded me of the men’s room at the Jamaica Train Station
He’d hang his hat at a dimly lit bar down on South Main Street
And that’s where he’d dream about his past

He went to that frayed and faded bar each day
Because he used up all his choices and it wasn’t hard to tell
While everyone else was rushing off towards the nearest palm tree
He could usher you into a smoky world of clinking glasses and slurred conversation
Filled to the brim with skid row regulars wearing emotions on their sleeve
Here’s look’n at you friend
Mud in your eye
Here’s look’n at you friend
One more for old times

He soaked himself in that after hours venue
An early 50’s boheimian cool cat who’s jive-talk and be-bop growl came from smoke’n a couple a packs a day and a whole life’s worth of messed up love affairs
He cautioned himself with each gravely croak
And seemed to grow more grizzled with each story told
Dreams for sale bought and sold
Here’s look’n at you friend
Mud in your eye
Here’s look’n at you friend
One more for old times