Steely Dan Database
Charlie Freak had but one thing to call his own: Three weight ounce pure golden ring, no precious stone. Five nights without a bite, no place to lay his head. And if nobody takes him in he'll soon be dead. On the street he spied my face, I heard him hail; In our plot of frozen space he told his tale. Poor man, he showed his hand, so righteous was his need. And me so wise, I bought his prize for chicken feed. New found cash soon begs to smash a state of mind; Close inspection fast revealed his favourite kind. Poor kid, he overdid it, embraced the spreading haze. And while he sighed his body died in fifteen ways. When I heard I grabbed a cab to where he lay; 'Round his arm the plastic tag read D.O.A. Yes, Jack, I gave it back, the ring I could not own. Now come, my friend, I'll take your hand and lead you home.