The Perfect Gig - Bill Hicks

I was lookin' for a bar, just like Diogenes

Full of drunks, but not just any drunks, you understand:

Philosopher drunks, and poet drunks--drunks trained by hand--

And beautiful women, they’d be perfectly drunk, too

Reclining against an upholstered rail with absolutely nothing else to do

(chorus)All these folks would be there, all the live-long day

And when I’d get good and warmed up, I’d come in and play

I’d sing all of my songs for them, each and every one

The sad ones and the happy ones, the songs without a name

And joy would fill the air like fizz, in a good champagne

The poets would all come up to me, when I was done

They’d shake my hand and clap my back, we’d have some fun

The philosopher drunks’d smile knowingly, and tilt their glasses at me too--

Too shy to clap, at least they wouldn’t run

They’d tidy up their tables, and calculate the coming of the sun

And all the beautiful women--they'd line up at the door

And carry my guitars out to my car, one by one by one

And kiss my lips goodnight, Just like my mother did away back then

When I was very young

I just couldn’t end it there--I'd have to take them home

And one would quote Spinoza, and the other Des-car-tes

And from the back a soft sweet voice would whisper Sophocles

And in the morning there’d be coffee, on the patio, for four--

And I’d never ever go a gigging anymore!