Video Old Gangsters Never Die de Alan Moore 2025 Lyrics Lyrics

Alan Moore - Old Gangsters Never Die Lyrics

Old gangsters never die

Except the few that pass away in cinemas at midnight
Lay there sprawling in the footlights for the usherette or ice-cream girl to find

And if I die
God knows, I might
Don't make me die in black and white
Don't make me share a haunted screen
with all those other ghostboys who stood
trembling in the foyer sipping wine
Then coughed, and shoot their cuffs and check the time
and step outside and get cut down by dead policеmen
faces strobing in the panic-light
Thеir long dark cars parked out the back
their haloes black against the night
and John Dillinger's name in finest bulletsilver etched upon the hearts a cold tattoo upon the skin right next to where the badge is pinned

I could die carefully
at dusk
Cause buddy, I once owned a pair of diamond collar studs,
and as I live and breathe I swear that that's no lie
and men with such good taste as me deserve to cash their chips more elegant than those without a shirt upon their back or shine upon their dancing shoes

like, uh, playing poker
being dealt the ace of flames, you stand
and whispering once your mother's name pitch headlong dead across the roulette table
bulletholes pinned like armistice poppies
in neat rows across your back
or drowning
do you know, so many hoods and hitmen got sent down to tread the river bed for all eternity
and now they look like statues in some cold submerged art gallery
and I would gladly kiss the hand of any man who'd bind my wrists and send me down to be in such good company
Dutch Schultz, Capone, why mean like that had hellstars in their eyes
and when they walked in groups of more than three they must have look like grounded constellations torn down from a B-movie sky
Old gangsters, they never die
Say, say
wouldn't it be nice to fall asleep forever in some, some, some
old speakeasy in the 1920s where they never pulled aside the blind and looked outside to find that
that fifty years had washed away all of the legends
and the zoot suits and the bloodstains
like a fistful of dead rose
someone left with the hatcheck girl
and then drove off into old Chicago
with their windows wound and radio turned down
to keep their holstered shoulders cold and dry
Old gangsters, they never die

Say, John! Hey, John
I, I got the tickets for the show, here, in my very hand
Enjoy that show and when you kiss that girl goodnight
there in her red dress streaming, do it carefully
good burgundy upon the tongue, for she will kill you, John
and one must always kiss one's killer
Now ain't that so?

Hey, ma!
They shot your boys out there
and as I live and breathe I swear I never seen a pair
who fell so sweet to hear the final poetry of cordite in the air
or turned their faces up like so
receiving death as if it were a mother's kiss
or something black and rare
Hey, hey Fellas
is it cold there in that movie-house tonight?
C'mon, let's pass out that Jack Daniels
and we'll talk about old murders
and double crosses
and dead blondes
and we'll say "Here's lookin' atcha!"
"Here's blood in your eye!"

Old ghosts sit in the backroom
Old bodies don't tell stories
Old dreams wear dusty clothing
Old gangsters
Never
die