And a pickpocket that's ready sets his sights on a wallet
A tie-clad suitor, very formal and dapper
He asks for a service, one of those that doesn't pay taxes
From a lady with loose morals
And on the sidewalk across the street two cops
Disguised as undercover cops
Or that's what they figure while watching the pack
And the moon toasts to them, the prettiest ones, the bottles
And the night not giving a damn
And the cars racing each other, burning rubber
More gunshots than in a spaghetti western
And the cats, rather than brown, are sky blue
At the bar's corner, high, there are two shameless guys
That out of every five drinks pay only for one
Their friend the waitress that's addicted to anesthesia
Tends to pay them in flesh for what they give her in kind
And a gypsy they're taking away under arrest
Shouts in despair that they've made a mistake
The one that you're looking for parts his hair on the other side
And the moon toasts to them, the prettiest ones, the bottles
And the night not giving a damn
And the cars racing each other, burning rubber
And in the restroom more gunshots than in a spaghetti western
And the cats, rather than brown, are sky blue
And the rooftops full of sky-blue cats
Some run from themselves and others run from people
Because nobody understands them
God raises them and they meet up in the alleys
To share tales of battles of lives and loves
Putting makeup on their stories—what imaginations
And the moon toasts to them, the prettiest ones, the bottles
And the night not giving a damn
And the cars, racing each other, burning rubber
And in the restroom more gunshots
Than in a spaghetti western
And the cats, rather than brown, are sky blue