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lyrics

Moneymen are talking, saying all sorts of things
Moneymen talk cause the suits don't swing
That's where I come in, dress me up and send me from town to town
I see the wolf on the grounds

I crossed a potion peddler with perfume in her stare
I said, "I'm coming from the city"
She said, "I'm heading there.
My boy wrote me said troubles coming tomorrow, high noon"
I got no time, red eyes on the moon

It hasn't been this bad since my grandpa was a kid
He made it through, he never told us what he did
The Cumberland is rising, the wind blew out both of our candles
I hear the wolf at the handle

I seen a big black dog and a big black cat
A big black bear swing a big black bat
Come across my path, the river knows my time is coming soon
I got no time, red eyes on the moon

Bare feet and bleeding running through the corn
Even that stalwart old scarecrow's taken cover from the storm
All I head growing up was more, more, more, more, more
Now I hear the wolf at the door

The king is raising panic, orders from the company clout
Don't listen to a word of the speaker of the house
I met Miss Nancy once, she was working upstairs at the saloon
I got no time, red eyes on the moon

When all the world is sleeping I think about my wife
I can't stand the woman but she's the love of my life
If I get out alive I'm gonna get to a farm house and call her
I hear the wolf in the parlor

Numbers knockin everybody off of their feet
But numbers can't fight, can't bite, can't eat
Your house ain't made of numbers, ain't no bottom line in your spoon
I got no time, red eyes on the moon

Some slick white boys up in New York City
Did a greedy little jig now the world ain't so pretty
But ain't nothin' changed, ain't there wheat still growin' out in the fields?
I tell the wolf he must yield

credits

from Balletesque (2009), released September 21, 2007
written by Julian Saporiti

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Julian Saporiti Portland, Oregon

Songs from the good old days.

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