A corner dive down on the square
Where the windows hang with a neon flare
Regulars shoot horse and pool
While the barmaid wishes the place half full
She works the jar with a discount flirt
A faded Houston Oilers shirt
While an old crow sings down on the stage
Thumbin’ the chords on a crinkled page
He plays his Zevon tune
Beneath the gulf moon
Take a walk down along the wall
You’ll go right on past the carnival
Hand in hand with the keeper kind
The kind that ties to the ties that bind
Don’t care for the carnie man
Or the fortune teller that reads your hand
They just beeline for a bungalow
Where the curtains flutter and candles glow
In the heart of June
Beneath the gulf moon
And here I’m on a midnight porch
Lookin’ up at a butane torch
That hangs behind a black expanse
Where stars flicker and planets dance
And it’s probably time I pack it in
With a glass half-full of Jameson
Well, I was born to croon
I might as well, ‘neath the gulf moon
Down by the jetty, near the Balinese Pier
The curmudgeons drink the yellow belly beer
And they bitch about the price of gas
And the fish that they can’t seem to catch
They blame it on the islands way down south
From the bayou marsh and the delta mouth
Where choppers roll, and the tankers come
In a midnight daze for the oil drum
They can’t leave too soon
‘Neath the gulf moon
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