Atkin-James
Mornings now I breakfast in the tower
Then travel thirty floors to the garage
My sons are with me even underground
With nothing but our gun-cars all around
From anything but nuclear attack
That place is safe, but when I cut the pack I see the Joker
I cut the pack and see the Joker
The forecourt is crawling with our boys
A heavy weapon rides in every car
My Cadillac's a safe-deposit box
With plastic armour in the top and sides
Solid like a strongroom in Fort Knox
And all along the parkway into town
We're covered for a mile front and back
By Family cars, but when I cut the pack I see the Joker
I cut the pack and see the Joker
Who is this guy and why does he want me?
This city has been ours since Christ knows when
At first from booze and girls and junk, and then
Legitimate, from rents and industry
The Chief of Police is ours to buy and sell
The DA and the Mayor are ours as well
There's no-one left to fight, the enemy
Are dead and gone, or just some juicehead black
Loose with a knife, but when I cut the pack I see the Joker
I cut the pack and see the Joker
The cops are checking each incoming flight
For solo hitmen with an urge to die
No-one gets in here by day or night
Without I don't know who they are and why
I'm in the clear, at barely fifty-five
One of the most respected men alive
Some blubber here and there, but nothing slack
I'm right on top, but when I cut the pack I see the Joker
I cut the pack and see the Joker
We do the journey different every day
Today we hit the garment district first
The double back and take the boulevarde
And as we drive I don't know which is worst
To know he'll come but not to know the way
To know he'll make a play but not know how
Is he somewhere out there setting up the gun?
Is this headache from his crosswires on my brow?
There's no way, not a crevice, not a crack
That he can reach me, but when I cut the pack I see the Joker
I cut the pack and see the Joker