Last Tom Waits lyrics

[gorphon]

but.... there will be more to come, be afraid! :reallymad: actually, as reiteration, anyone wanting any "info" on the albums behind any of the song lyrics I post should feel more than free to pm me with their interest.

this is perhaps my other favorite song by Waits... I do have tons of em though really:

Tom Traubert's Blues

Wasted and wounded, it ain't what the moon did, I've got what I paid for now

See you tomorrow, hey Frank, can I borrow a couple of bucks from you

To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda,

You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me

I'm an innocent victim of a blinded alley

And I'm tired of all these soldiers here

No one speaks English, and everything's broken, and my Stacys are soaking wet

To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda,

You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me

Now the dogs are barking and the taxi cab's parking

A lot they can do for me

I begged you to stab me, you tore my shirt open,

And I'm down on my knees tonight

Old Bushmill's I staggered, you'd bury the dagger

In your silhouette window light go

To go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda,

You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me

Now I lost my Saint Christopher now that I've kissed her

And the one-armed bandit knows

And the maverick Chinamen, and the cold-blooded signs,

And the girls down by the strip-tease shows, go

Waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda,

You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me

No, I don't want your sympathy, the fugitives say

That the streets aren't for dreaming now

And manslaughter dragnets and the ghosts that sell memories,

They want a piece of the action anyhow

Go waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda,

You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me

And you can ask any sailor, and the keys from the jailor,

And the old men in wheelchairs know

And Mathilda's the defendant, she killed about a hundred,

And she follows wherever you may go

Waltzing Mathilda, waltzing Mathilda,

You'll go waltzing Mathilda with me

And it's a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace,

And a wound that will never heal

No prima donna, the perfume is on an

Old shirt that is stained with blood and whiskey

And goodnight to the street sweepers, the night watchmen flame keepers

And goodnight to Mathilda, too