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 2 a.m. '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