We moved! We danced under the bright light we headed south - it dawned in our minds oh we're going down to New Orleans to find dear Old Bill. Ain't that just killer-diller
And listen here man, to this wild saxophone tearing it down the dream was there, the dream was there it was all crazy.
The radio was howling mad
We went to Old Bill's house, on the outskirts of the city A backroad alongside the muddy river
His house was an old shack, Bougainvilleas on the lawn
Joan was under them. Opened her mouth: "sad, sad paradise"
Old Bill came back in a beat down Cadillac found his home flooded with the madmen's ball hey Jack, you finally arrived.
Man, It would take a lifetime to talk about Old Bill
He wasted years and years roaming the United States He had a shady deal with a Mexican horse racing track there are old police reports with his fake name all over them stacks of yellow pages packed with all kinds of misdemeanours
There are descriptions of him on the shores of Morocco, his eyes drooping on the streets of Tangier;
He was a Shaman in Massachusetts, a private dick in New York he never heard from those racehorses again
He spoke those words right from the back of his mind: Neal's gone If you drive to LA with this deranged man, you'll never live through that why don't you stay with me?
I've got a new pair of guns and a fresh white canvas
There's another story about his younger days
Desire took over his well tormented soul
Old Bill grabbed a knife, cut off his left-hand finger and gave it to his lover But dead fingers don't talk as much as you would think
No surprise he had a machine-gun in his basement
A painter of sorts blasting cans of paint with his shotgun
He said he could knockout an apple from the top of anyone's head with a single shot Only thing wrong, no-one volunteered
We had a wild night in downtown New Orleans
Neal was gone from this earth
We got back to the house - to the madmen's ball
We had to leave Old Bill back to his knives
He spoke those words right from the back of his mind: Neal's gone
If you drive to LA with this deranged man, you'll never live through that You roll the dice, you pay the toll. That's the score
John Mercy - Old Bill Lyrics
John Mercy - Old Bill Lyrics
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English
We moved! We danced under the bright light we headed south - it dawned in our minds oh we're going down to New Orleans to find dear Old Bill. Ain't that just killer-diller
And listen here man, to this wild saxophone tearing it down the dream was there, the dream was there it was all crazy.
The radio was howling mad
We went to Old Bill's house, on the outskirts of the city A backroad alongside the muddy river
His house was an old shack, Bougainvilleas on the lawn
Joan was under them. Opened her mouth: "sad, sad paradise"
Old Bill came back in a beat down Cadillac found his home flooded with the madmen's ball hey Jack, you finally arrived.
Man, It would take a lifetime to talk about Old Bill
He wasted years and years roaming the United States He had a shady deal with a Mexican horse racing track there are old police reports with his fake name all over them stacks of yellow pages packed with all kinds of misdemeanours
There are descriptions of him on the shores of Morocco, his eyes drooping on the streets of Tangier;
He was a Shaman in Massachusetts, a private dick in New York he never heard from those racehorses again
He spoke those words right from the back of his mind: Neal's gone If you drive to LA with this deranged man, you'll never live through that why don't you stay with me?
I've got a new pair of guns and a fresh white canvas
There's another story about his younger days
Desire took over his well tormented soul
Old Bill grabbed a knife, cut off his left-hand finger and gave it to his lover But dead fingers don't talk as much as you would think
No surprise he had a machine-gun in his basement
A painter of sorts blasting cans of paint with his shotgun
He said he could knockout an apple from the top of anyone's head with a single shot Only thing wrong, no-one volunteered
We had a wild night in downtown New Orleans
Neal was gone from this earth
We got back to the house - to the madmen's ball
We had to leave Old Bill back to his knives
He spoke those words right from the back of his mind: Neal's gone
If you drive to LA with this deranged man, you'll never live through that You roll the dice, you pay the toll. That's the score
And listen here man, to this wild saxophone tearing it down the dream was there, the dream was there it was all crazy.
The radio was howling mad
We went to Old Bill's house, on the outskirts of the city A backroad alongside the muddy river
His house was an old shack, Bougainvilleas on the lawn
Joan was under them. Opened her mouth: "sad, sad paradise"
Old Bill came back in a beat down Cadillac found his home flooded with the madmen's ball hey Jack, you finally arrived.
Man, It would take a lifetime to talk about Old Bill
He wasted years and years roaming the United States He had a shady deal with a Mexican horse racing track there are old police reports with his fake name all over them stacks of yellow pages packed with all kinds of misdemeanours
There are descriptions of him on the shores of Morocco, his eyes drooping on the streets of Tangier;
He was a Shaman in Massachusetts, a private dick in New York he never heard from those racehorses again
He spoke those words right from the back of his mind: Neal's gone If you drive to LA with this deranged man, you'll never live through that why don't you stay with me?
I've got a new pair of guns and a fresh white canvas
There's another story about his younger days
Desire took over his well tormented soul
Old Bill grabbed a knife, cut off his left-hand finger and gave it to his lover But dead fingers don't talk as much as you would think
No surprise he had a machine-gun in his basement
A painter of sorts blasting cans of paint with his shotgun
He said he could knockout an apple from the top of anyone's head with a single shot Only thing wrong, no-one volunteered
We had a wild night in downtown New Orleans
Neal was gone from this earth
We got back to the house - to the madmen's ball
We had to leave Old Bill back to his knives
He spoke those words right from the back of his mind: Neal's gone
If you drive to LA with this deranged man, you'll never live through that You roll the dice, you pay the toll. That's the score
Writer: JOHN MERCY
Copyright: Lyrics © Peermusic Publishing, Rossio Music Publishing
Copyright: Lyrics © Peermusic Publishing, Rossio Music Publishing