Pieces Of Eight

Lyrics: Robert Hunter
Music: Robert Hunter

All the old winds wail again
It's good to feel them as I run to save my skin
Cut the chain link, jump the ditches
Heighdy Ho, you sons-of-bitches
It's crying time on the federal ten
A man escaped from the Georgia pen

Pieces of eight haunt my dreams
Pieces of eight lying low, lying low
Low, low let it lie ... lie low
Hook up with a couple of friends
split up the loot and do it again

The will to be free melts prison bars away
with a little ingenuity and a willingness to pay (note 1)
Compromise the cellblock watch
Then you buy the guards
It helps if you can learn to deal
a wicked pack of cards

Pieces of eight haunt my dreams
Pieces of eight lying low, lying low
Wake, sleep, eat revenge (note 2)
I won't wait for parole
Been waking up in a shaking sweat
my blood running cold

Change for two bits - three nickels and a dime (note 3)
For you they called it politics, for me it was a crime
When it came to showdown time
You took yours and I got mine
Fifteen years on a federal rap
While you got off with a token slap

Pieces of eight haunt my dreams
Pieces of eight lying low, lying low
Dancing dead men grab my feet
Flashing teeth of gold
Wake me from a dream of hate
To run through the cold

Cold shakes of dawn, South Bend bound
Half on bluff and half on luck I throw my weight around
I'll lie low and hide on out
with Angel Bright, whom I don't doubt
will put me up for a week or two
If she knows I'm looking for a crack at you (note 4)

Pieces of eight haunt my dreams
Pieces of eight lying low, lying low
Cut the chain link, jump the ditches
Heighdy Ho, you sons-of-bitches
It's crying time on the federal ten
A man escaped from the Georgia pen
Notes
(1) these are the lyrics in "Box Of Rain", but in a version on 10 May 1982 Robert Hunter sang:
The will to be free, and ingenuity
Melts those prison bars away, just ask Jean Genet
(2) in 1982, Hunter sang:
Dancing dead men snatch my sleep
Flashing teeth of gold
Wake me in a shaking sweat
my blood running cold
(3) in 1982, Hunter sang:
Penny ante politics - three nickels for a dime
The jury was the hang-up, in fact it was the crime
When it came to showdown time
You got yours and I took mine
Fifteen years on a federal rap
While you bought [?] with your wrists slapped
(4) in 1982, Hunter sang:
For a touch of love and a cut of the loot

 


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