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Outside full moon straight overhead
It's moon high noon - I'm not in my bed
There's a large human being at the back of the bar
Pulling visceral sounds from a no-name guitar

In the flickering murk he could be tricky to see
Planted on a bench like the trunk of a tree
A densification of darkened air
Solid but you wonder if he's actually there

But who is it plays like that?
Who is it plays like that?
Freight rolling down the track
Got a double chin all the way 'round his neck
And a pot belly in the back

Sweat running into a size-thirty collar
It's not Minnesota Fats or Domino or Waller
Or Arbuckle or anybody painted by Botero
Sign says "Tonite: King of the Bolero"

But who is it plays like that?
Who is it plays like that?
Freight rolling down the track
Got a double chin all the way around his neck
And a pot belly in the back

His baby was bad, took all he had
Left him a mule to ride
He didn't catch on 'til she was long gone
Now humiliation wrestles with pride
He's wide, he's tall, he's a cannonball
Makes his big archtop axe look small
The tone is a crunch - packs a Joe Louis punch
Pokes at the heart like a saddlemaker's awl

But who is it plays like that?
Who is it plays like that?
Freight rolling down the track
Got a double chin all the way 'round his neck
And a pot belly in the back

Outside full moon straight overhead
It's moon high noon - I'm not in my bed...

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