Spec's almost drowned off the coast of California
and started this museum
to help the shipwrecked remember
they grow quiet
the sea grows colder
drinking the night away
burn bridges grow older

Kent worked at Spec's since 1970
right after Haight Street finally choked on its own 
vomit
an impartial smile made him a gentleman
some bartenders have the gift of pardon

A bar has a longer history than a country
what keeps the moon chained
are ridiculous acts of faith
and after a couple of drinks
visionary eyes all burn
the drunks seem saint-like
in their disillusion

Kent always knew the serious nature of a smile
knew the serious nature of the job he was given
never told himself there's only so much a man could 
take on
some bartenders have the gift of pardon With the same 
old tape wearing out in the background
Billie Holiday “Solitude”
or some sad old Irish folk songs
you're not promised the moon
or lied to by its distractions
you enter the world alone
and that's the first and the last thing

It seems one night he was having a hard time falling 
asleep
and found himself in an accidental shipwreck
dreaming he's still at the bar counting sheep
the cold ocean threw its chains around his neck

Never have to worry about counterfeits at 2am
'cause that's all there is
'cause that's all there is
just some old poets drinking
the last nightmare in
and the comfort of the dark
and being forgotten

Some bartenders have the gift of pardon
some bartenders have the gift of pardon