one point away

from the fishes

bottom of nine

two gone—

the catcher’s sign

my goodbye song

curveball, low

inside the plate

swing and a miss, Joe

same old fate

game over, son

scoreboard’s a wreck

the fun is done

let’s ring your neck

ten grand burned, is up in smoke

many mobster macaroons

pay us now, boy, ain’t no joke

grunt greasy gobsmacked gunsel goons

it was a tight spread

now my bookie

gets no nookie

loan shark money

seems milk and honey

a safe bet running

then bites with cunning

I like ballgames and booze

the easy life’s a snooze

I gamble and I lose

now I sleep with concrete shoes

one point away

from the fishes

bottom of the East

I’m gone—

the Reaper’s feast

my goodbye song