Quarters Songtext / Lyric

I travel where you worked

Was cold and dark as a cavern

You kept quarters in your shirt

But I never could just have them

You always made me sweep around every flying floozy

Under booths and bums asleep

Waking up, they'd ask you, "Who's he?"



Behind a glass without a glance

"My daughter's boy," you would say

Well, I stood there in a trance

Listening to the jukebox play