Lyrics

Cold Bintang Going Warm

By Jimmy Shoals · Twelve Bars

Diesel on his fingers, BBQ in his beard He tuned my busted E-string with a pair of pliers Said "Mon, your boat's fine — your judgment's weird" Then spent my last twenty on the harbor fryers He knew the harbor by the name of every boat Could tell you who was drunk by how they'd tied their line Said "Last Friday, mon, a man rowed out in a coat" "Thirty-seven boats — I fixed twenty-nine" By seven the harbor had the Friday crowd Foxy's had the whole dock leaning in Watched the fuel line like it shouldn't be allowed Like maybe Lazarus might crank once and begin Strong rum, Friday smoke — pass the thing around Foxy's got the harbor singing off-key I lost my twenty but found the Friday sound The mechanic led the whole dock to harmony He fixed one diesel pump with a butter knife Charged the captain nothing, made the third mate choke Said "tools are fine, mon, but they complicate life" Then wiped his hand on a rag that mostly smoked By ten he'd drawn the whole back bar in tight Diesel rag on shoulder, waving time Said "Don't know the words? That's all right Make something up — it'll rhyme" By seven the harbor had the Friday crowd Foxy's had the whole dock leaning in Watched the fuel line like it shouldn't be allowed Like maybe Lazarus might crank once and begin Strong rum, Friday smoke — pass the thing around Foxy's got the harbor singing off-key I lost my twenty but found the Friday sound The mechanic led the whole dock to harmony The starter clicked once — nothing came He said "Quiet. She thinking." Still as reef Second click — the harbor sounded the same Third one kicked black smoke and found relief She shook free and the whole dock roared Mechanic shrugged like what he'd planned Captain hit the throttle for the last accord He said "See? She had to understand" Strong rum, Friday smoke — pass the thing around Foxy's got the harbor singing off-key I lost my twenty but found the Friday sound The mechanic led the whole dock to harmony I never found my tab and didn't look too hard The mechanic shook my hand and fixed my strap Said "Welcome to the harbor — here's my card" And handed me a bottle cap I found the butter knife somewhere after midnight Bent like it had seen the Lord somewhere before Kept it in my guitar case — felt right Next to three picks, two receipts, and a chord I couldn't afford
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