Tom Waits Album

[No lyrics]

muriel since you left town the clubs closed down
and there's one more burned out lamppost down on the main street
down where we used to stroll
and muriel i still hit all the same old haunts
and you follow me wherever i go
and muriel i see you on a saturday night
in a penny arcade with your hair tied back
and the diamond twinkle in your eye
is the only wedding ring i'll buy you
muriel

and muriel how many times i've left this town
to hide from your memory
and it haunts me
but i only get as far as the next whiskey bar
i buy another cheap cigar and i'll see you every night
hey muriel muriel
hey buddy got a light

stop me if you've heard this one
i feel as though we've met before
perhaps i'm mistaken
but it's just that i remind you
of someone you used to care about
but that was long ago
do you think i'd fall for that
i wasn't born yesterday
besides i never talk to strangers anyway

i ain't a bad guy when you get to know me
i just thought there ain't no harm
hey just try minding your own business
bud who asked you to annoy me
with your sad repartee
besides i never talk to strangers anyway

your life's a dimestore novel
this town is full of guys like you
and you're looking for someone to take the place of her
and you're bitter cause he left you
that's why you're drinkin in this bar
well only suckers fall in love
with perfect strangers

it always takes one to know one stranger
maybe we're just wiser now
and been around the block so many times
that we don't notice
that we're all just perfect strangers
as long as we ignore
that we all begin as strangers
just before we find
we really aren't strangers anymore

Jack was sittin' poker faced with bullets backed with bitches
Neal hunched at the wheel, puttin' everyone in stitches
Braggin' 'bout some nurse he screwed while drivin' through Nebraska
And when she came she honked the horn
and Neal just barely missed a truck
And then he asked her if she'd like to come like that to Californy
You see, a red head in a uniform will always get you horny
Yeah, and with her hairnet and those white shoes and a name tag and a hat
She drove like Andy Granatelli and knew how to fix a flat
And Jack was almost at the bottom of his MD 2020
Neal was yellin' out the window, tryin' to buy some bennies
From a Lincoln full of Mexicans, and the left rear tire blowed
And the sons of bitches pretty near almost ran us off the road
And while the nurse had spilled the Maneshewitz all up and down her dress
And then she lit the map on fire, Neal just had to guess
Should we try and find a bootleg route or a fillin' station open
The nurse was dumpin' out her purse and lookin' for an envelope
And Jack was out of cigarettes, and as we crossed the yellow line
The gas pumps looked like tombstones from here
And it felt lonelier than a parkin' lot when the last car pulls away
And the moonlight dressed the double breasted foothills in the mirror
Weaving out a negligee and a black brassiere
And the Mercury was runnin' hot and we were almost out of gas
Just then Florence Nightingale she dropped her drawers and
Stuck her fat ass half way out of the window to a Wilson Pickett tune
And shouted 'Get a load of this' and gave the finger to the moon

Countin' one eyed Jacks and whistlin' Dixie in the car
Neal was doin' least a hundred when we saw a fallin' star
And Florence wished that Neal would hold her 'stead of chewin' on his cigar
Jack was noddin' out and wishin' he was in a bar
With Charlie Parker on the bandstand, and not a worry in the world
And a glass of beer in one hand and his arms around a girl
Neal was singin' to the nurse, 'Underneath the Harlem Moon'
And somehow you could just tell we'd be in California soon...

Open up your golden gates
California, here I come
I said: California, here I come
Look out: California, here I come

hey sight for sore eyes it's a long time no see
workin hard hardly workin hey man you know me
water under the bridge didya see my new car
well it's bought and it's payed for parked outside of the bar

and hey barkeeper what's keepin you keep pourin drinks
for all these palookas hey you know what i thinks
that we toast to the old days and dimagio too
and old drysdale and mantle whitey ford and to you

no the old gang ain't around everyone has left town
'cept for thumm and giardina said they just might be down
oh half drunk all the time and i'm all drunk the rest
yea monk's till the champion but i'm the best

i guess you heard about nash he was killed in a crash
hell that must of been two or three years ago now
yea he spun out and he rolled he hit a telephone pole
and he died with the radio on
no she's married and with a kid finally split up with sid
he's up north for a nickle's worth for armed robbery

hey i'll play you some pin ball hell you ain't got a chance
well then go on over and ask her to dance

well you can buy me a drink and i'll tell you what i seen
and i'll give you a bargain from the edge of a maniac's dream
that buys a black widow spider with a riddle in his yarn
that's clinging to the furrow of a blindman's brow
i'll start talking from the brim of a thimble full of whiskey
on a train through the bronx that will take you just as far
as the empty of a bottle to the highway of a scar
that stretched across the blacktop of my cheek like that
and then ducks beneath the brim of a fugitive's hat
and you'll learn why liquor makes a stool pigeon rat on every face
that ever left his shadow down on saint marks place

hell i'd double cross my mother if it was whiskey that they payed
and so an early bird says nightsticks on the hit parade
and he ain't got a prayer and his days are numbered
and you'll track him down like a dog
well it's a tough customer you're getting in this trade
Óause the nightstick's heart pumps lemonade
well whiskey keeps a blindman talkin alright
and i'm the only one who knows just where he stayed last night

he was in a wreckin yard in a switchblade storm
in a wheelbarrow with nothing but revenge to keep him warm
and a half a million dollars in unmarked bills
was the nightstick's blanket in a febuary chill
and as the buzzard drove a crooked sky
he was dealin high chicago in the mud
and stackin' the deck against a dragnet's eye
a shivering nightstick in a miserable heap
with the siren for a lullaby singing him to sleep
he was bleeding from a buttonhole
torn by a slug fired from the barrel of a two dollar gun
that scorched a blister on the grip of a punk by now
is learnin what you have to pay to be a hero anyhow

he dressed the hole in his gut with a hundred dollar bandage
a king's ransom for a bedspread that don't amount to nuttin
just cobweb strings on a busted ukulele
and the nightstick leaned on a black shillelagh
with the poison of a junkie's broken promise on his lip

he staggered in the shadows screaming i ain't never been afraid
and he shot out every street light on the promenade
past the frozen ham and eggers at the penny arcade
throwin out handfuls of a blood stained salary
they were dead in their tracks at the shootin gallery
and they fired off a twenty one gun salute
and from the corner of his eye he caught the alabaster orbs
and from a dime a dance hall girl and stuffed a thousand dollar bill
in her blouse and caught the cruel and unusual punishment of her smile
and the nightstick winked beneath a rainsoaked brim
ain't no one seen hide nor hair of him see
no one but a spade on rikers island and me
and so if you're mad enough to listen to a full of whiskey blindman
then you're mad enough to look beyond where bloodhounds dare to go
so if you want to know just where the nightstick's hidin out
you be down at the ferry landin oh let's say bout half past a nightmare
when it's twisted on a clock you tell 'em nickels sentcha
whiskey always makes him talk
and you ask for captain charon with the mud on his kicks
he's the skipper of the deadline steamer
and she sails from the bronx across the river styx
and a riddle's just a ticket for a dreamer

cause when the weathervane's sleepin and the moon turns his back
you crawl on your belly long the railroad tracks
and cross your heart and hope to die and stick a needle in your eye
cause he'd cut my bleedin heart out if he found out that i squealed
cause you see a scarecrow's just a hoodlum
who marked the cards that he dealed
and pulled a gypsy switch
out on the edge of potter's field

Licorice tattoo turned a gun metal blue
Scrawled across the shoulders of a dying town
The one eyed jacks across the railroad tracks
And the scar on its belly pulled a stranger passing through
He was a juvenile delinquent never learned how to behave
But the cops would never think to look in Burma-shave

And the road was like a ribbon
And the moon was like a bone
He didn't seem to be like any guy she'd ever known
He kinda looked like Farley Granger with his hair slicked back
She says I'm a sucker for a fella in a cowboy hat
How far are you going he said depends on what you mean
He says I'm only stopping here to get some gasoline
I guess I'm going that way just as long as it's paved
I guess you'd say I'm on my way to Burma-shave

And with her knees up on the glove compartment
She took out her barrettes
And her hair spilled out like rootbeer
And she popped her gum and arched her back
Hell Marysville ain't nothing but a wide spot in the road
Some nights my heart pounds just like thunder
Don't know why it don't explode
Cause everyone in this stinking town has got one foot in the grave
And i'd rather take my chances out in Burma-shave

Presley's what I go by why don't you change the station
Count the grain elevators in the rearview mirror
She said, Mister anywhere you point this thing
Has got to beat the hell out of the sting
Of going to bed with every dream that dies here every mornin
And so drill me a hole with a barber pole
I'm jumping my parole just like a fugitive tonight
Why don't you have another swig
And pass that car if you're so brave
I wanna get there before the sun comes up in Burma-shave

And the spider web crack and the mustang screamed
Smoke from the tires and the twisted machine
Just a nickel's worth of dreams
And every wishbone that they saved
Lie swindled from them on the way to Burma-shave

And the sun hit the derrick and cast a bat wing shadow
Up against the car door on the shot gun side
And when they pulled her from the wreck
You know she still had on her shades
They say that dreams are growing wild just this side of Burma-shave

good mornin mr. snip snip snip witchur haircut jus as short as mine
bay rum lucky tiger butch wax cracker jacks shoe shine jaw breaker
magazine racks hangin round the barber shop a side burnin close crop
mornin mr. furgeson what's the good word witcha been
stayin outa trouble like a good boy should i see you're still cuttin hair
well i'm still cuttin classes i just couldn't hep myself
i got a couple of passes to the ringle bros. barn bail circus afternoon
i see you lost a little round the middle and your lookin reel good
sittin on the wagon stead of under the hood
what's the low down mr. brown heard you boy's leavin town
i just bought myself a struggle buggy suckers powder blue
throw me over sports page cincinnati's lookin' good
always been for pittsburgh lay you 10 to 1
that the pirates get the pennant and the series for their done
you know the hair's gettin longer and the skirts gettin shorter
you can get a cheaper haircut if you wanna cross the border
now if your mama saw you smokin why she'd kick your ass
put it out you little juvenile and put it out fast
oh if i had a million dollars well what would i do
probly be a barber not a bum like you
still gotchur paper route now that's just fine
now you can pay me double cause you gypped me last time
you be keepin little circus money and spend it on a girl
know i give the best haircuts in the whole wide world

when travelling abroad in the continental style
it's my belief one must attempt to be discreet
and subsequently bear in mind your transient position
allows you a perspective that's unique
though you'll find your itinerary's a blessing and a curse
your wanderlust won't let you settle down
and you'll wonder how you ever fathomed that you'd be content
to stay within the city limits of a small midwestern town
most vagabonds i knowed don't ever want to find the culprit
that remains the object of their long relentless quest
the obsession's in the chasing and not the apprehending
the pursuit you see and never the arrest

without fear of contradiction bon voyage is always hollered
in conjunction with a handkerchief from shore
by a girl that drives a rambler and furthermore
is overly concerned that she won't see him anymore
planes and trains and boats and buses
characteristically evoke a common attitude of blue
unless you have a suitcase and a ticket and a passport
and the cargo that they're carrying is you
a foreign affair juxtaposed with a stateside
and domestically approved romantic fancy
is mysteriously attractive due to circumstances knowing
it will only be parlayed into a memory