[Intro: pool balls clack, one pizzicato pluck] Rack 'em Your break [Hook: slow drawl, low brass under the last line] Bank shot, bank shot, I don't go straight no more Hand shake, rail don't, let the cushion keep the score You came to take the old man with the tremble in his wrist Bank shot. Off three. Corner pocket. Kiss [Verse 1: unhurried, every word placed] Seventy-four on the same stool at the back by the door Fifty years on this table, I know the lean in the floor Hand started shakin' 'round seventy, doc said it's the nerve So I quit shootin' straight and learned to live off the curve In walks the kid, twenty-two, two-piece cue in a leather case Gold chain, clean shoes, and his daddy's crooked grin on his face Lays two thousand on the rail, says, "Old man, you still play?" Says, "My daddy told me 'bout you. Said you took him back in the day" [Flow switch: triplet run as the room gathers] Room gettin' quiet, the chalk and the quarters, the bartender killin' the fight on the screen Everybody bettin' their twenties on youth 'cause they seen my hand shake, and they think that they know what they seen [Hook] Bank shot, bank shot, I don't go straight no more Hand shake, rail don't, let the cushion keep the score You came to take the old man with the tremble in his wrist Bank shot. Off three. Corner pocket. Kiss [Verse 2: pizzicato tightens, ball clacks land on the snare] Kid breaks like thunder, sinks two, runs four Struttin' 'round the table like the deed's in his drawer Kid's good. Kid's real good. Kid's fuckin' fast But fast is a young man's word, and fast don't last Misses on the six 'cause he's lookin' at the crowd I stand up slow, and the whole room don't make a sound [Flow switch: he calls every shot] Two ball, two rails, side pocket, gone Five ball off the nine, and the nine don't know it, gone Three ball, long rail, all the way back home Seven, three cushions, and the cushions do the work alone Every shot I make is crooked 'cause my hand is crooked too Fifty years of learnin' angles when the straight line wasn't true [Beat Switch: drums out, only ball clacks and pizzicato] Eight ball frozen on the far rail, and the corner's blocked by his Only way is three rails, and the kid says, "Ain't no way it is" I said, "That's what your daddy said." Chalk. Breathe. Bend Hand's shakin' like a leaf. Let it shake. I don't need the hand [Verse 3: drums slam back, triplets, the shot in slow motion] Tip kissed it soft and it's driftin' to the rail like smoke First cushion, it bends like a rumor that somebody spoke Second cushion, it's slowin', every twenty in the room gettin' cold Third cushion, it's crawlin' on the felt like a man gettin' old Hangs on the lip of the pocket like it's thinkin' it through Then it drops like your money, like your daddy's money, too Kid packs up the two-piece, leaves the two on the rail Hand still shakin' when I fold it. Hand shakes. Rail don't fail [Final Hook: drawl, brass full, then only the clacks] Bank shot, bank shot, I don't go straight no more Hand shake, rail don't, let the cushion keep the score You came to take the old man for the tremble in his wrist Bank shot. Off three. Corner pocket. Kiss [Outro: one ball drops, spoken] Tell your daddy I still play
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