Lyrics
Johnny Fontaine
Johnny Fontaine walks around the square with his zip gun mouth
Johnny Fontaine with his slingshot jaw
He shouts his Gypsy Davy insults
Through his electric gravel teeth
In a voice as subtle as a cattle prod
With his hand out like a beggar
Like a thief he demands
With a rich man's arrogance he sneers
Like a specter on these tombstone streets
He steals across the city
Just to work his worthless magic
It's all done with mirrors
He makes his rainy day reflections
With the sorcerer's apprentice
The victim of a spell that can't be broken
With his witch doctor mask
And his tea leaf intuition
The power he once had has all been stolen
And when the curfew blows inside his skull
And he picks up the remnants of his broken dreams
And he gently strokes the hobo rat
Slowly surely gnawing at
The door of conscience til he screams
His golden throat, his silver harps
Go bursting into flames
From the ashes of a cigarette
Discarded in the rain
Rises the smoky ghost of Johnny Fontaine
Johnny walks inside a bar room and he slowly makes a circle
Then, he casually sniffs the air
With his jackal mystique
With his hyena charm
Johnny Fontaine softly strokes his midnight hair
Then, he seats himself next to a man he thinks looks like a mouse
With his tongue he licks his lips
They reek with poison
Johnny orders his companion
To order him a drink
The man does it just 'cause Johnny's so annoying
With his alley cat demeanor
Johnny eats right off the floor
He waits for everyone around to throw him scraps
Then, pretty soon you notice
He's crawling up your leg
To the table til he's sitting in your lap
And when the curfew blows inside his skull
And he picks up the remnants of his broken dreams
And he gently strokes the hobo rat
Slowly, surely gnawing at
The door to his conscience til he screams
His golden throat, his silver harps go bursting into flames
From the ashes of a cigarette
Discarded in the rain
Rises the smoky ghost of Johnny Fontaine
Johnny walks out of the bar room and nobody pays attention
Nobody even says 'goodbye'
There's just a wave of relief in the cigarette smoke
That fills up the club with a silent sigh
But he's loaded up the pistol
At the base of his brain
Six bullets laced with gin are in the chamber
As he walks along a chain link fence where there's high voltage wires
And he sits beneath the sign that just reads, 'Danger'
There's the clicking of the wheelchair as he unscrew a quart of beer
With that crippled thumb he stuck out for a ride
One more bitter invalid stranded on the highway
Where the wheel of fortune honks
And pass' him by
And when the curfew blows inside his skull
And he picks up the remnant of his broken dreams
And he gently strokes the hobo rat
Slowly, surely gnawing at
The door of his conscience til he screams
His golden throat, his silver harps go bursting into flames
From the ashes of a cigarette
Discarded in the rain
Rises the smoky ghost of Johnny Fontaine