Tag Archives: Tom Waits

WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD

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One of the reasons I love Tom Waits songs is that is his sacrilegious disagreement with reality. And, the mo-fo can really do music good!

Lyrics:


put a dead cat on the railraod tracks
when the wolf bains blooming by the tressel
and get the eyeball of a rooster
and the stones from a ditch
and wash em down with bilge water
and say you’ll never snitch
take the buttons from a yellow jacket
the feather from a buzzard
and the blood from the bounty hunters cold black heart
catch the tears of a window
in a thimble made ofglass
tell your mamaand your papa
theycan kiss your ass
poison all the water in the wishin’ well
and hang all them scarecrows from a sycamore tree
burn down all those honeymoons
put em in a pillow case
and wait next to the switch blades at the amusements park for me
strangle all the cristmas carols
scratch out all you prayers
tie em up with barbed wire
and push them down the stairs
and i’ll whittle you a pistol
for reepin’ nightmares off the blinds
those sunsabitches always seem to sneak up from behind
syphom all the gas from your daddys pickup truck
fill up jonnys t bird
i got a couple bucks
put on little perfume and ribbon in your hair
careful that you don’t wake up the hounds
tear a bolt of lightning
off the side of the sky
and throw in the cedar chest
if you want me to tell you why
bring the gear shift knob from a 49 mere
and lay down here beside me
let me hold you in the dirt
and you’ll tremble as the flames
tear the throat out of the night
sink your teeth into my shoulder
dig your nails into my back
tell that lettle girl to let go of my sleeve
you’ll be awoman when i catch you
as you faqll in love with me

then with my double barrel shotgun
and a whole box of shells
we’ll celebrate the 4 of july
we’ll do 100 mph
spendin’ someone elses dough
and we’ll drive all the way to reno
on the wrong side of the road.

I DON’T WANNA (BE BORN AND) GROW UP (AGAIN)

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I’m not getting old any more.  I AM old.   I’m 66.  Jesus F*cking Krist!  Who woulda’ thunk?  Back when I was “young” — (between 18 and 45) I never imaged that I could get to be 66 years old! I thought that’s something that grandparents did.  Well, guess what?  I’m a grandparent too!  F*ck!  When you’re young, you think you’re going to live forever!  Young people think anyone 5 years older than they are are “old”.  For sure they don’t think they are personally ever going to be “old”.  You’re going to live forever, right?  You’re always going to be able to stay up all night and party, have sex whenever you want to, drink and smoke and work and run, play sports and do whatever the hell you want to do, like there’s no tomorrow.  Well, guess what?  It ain’t gonna happen!  When your body gets old you slow down. Aches, pains, arthritis, hip replacements, knee surgery, no sex drive, no hard-on, no wetness where it’s supposed to be wet.

OK, it’s a fact of life…and death.  So, I’m beginning to realize that I’m gonna die sooner than later.  I know that reincarnation is a real thing.  I can remember living many, many times before.  Other bodies, other places, other times.  Being able to remember that I’m an immortal spiritual being doesn’t make the prospect of being born again, in a new body, any easier to confront.  For me, the idea of getting a new body and starting all over again on planet Earth doesn’t sound like much fun.  It’s a Tom Waits moment…. “I don’t wanna grow up”…. This song is an anthem of protest against being “born again”:

I DON’T WANNA GROW UP (LYRICS by Tom Waits)

“When I’m lyin’ in my bed at night
I don’t wanna grow up
Nothin’ ever seems to turn out right
I don’t wanna grow up
How do you move in a world of fog
That’s always changing things
Makes me wish that I could be a dog
When I see the price that you pay
I don’t wanna grow up
I don’t ever wanna be that way
I don’t wanna grow up

Seems like folks turn into things
That they’d never want
The only thing to live for
Is today
I’m gonna put a hole in my TV set
I don’t wanna grow up
Open up the medicine chest
And I don’t wanna grow up
I don’t wnna have to shout it out
I don’t want my hair to fall out
I don’t wanna be filled with doubt
I don’t wanna be a good boy scout
I don’t wanna have to learn to count
I don’t wanna have the biggest amount
I don’t wanna grow up

Well when I see my parents fight
I don’t wanna grow up
They all go out and drinking all night
And I don’t wanna grow up
I’d rather stay here in my room
Nothin’ out there but sad and gloom
I don’t wanna live in a big old Tomb
On Grand Street

When I see the 5 o’clock news
I don’t wanna grow up
Comb their hair and shine their shoes
I don’t wanna grow up
Stay around in my old hometown
I don’t wanna put no money down
I don’t wanna get me a big old loan
Work them fingers to the bone
I don’t wanna float a broom
Fall in and get married then boom
How the hell did I get here so soon
I don’t wanna grow up”

TOM TIME

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Recently, I’ve become addicted to Tom Waits.  He’s the existential zen master of musical eloquence.

Well the smart money’s on Harlow and the moon is in the street
And the shadow boys are breaking all the laws
And you’re east of East Saint Louis and the wind is making speeches
And the rain sounds like a round of applause
And Napoleon is weeping in a carnival saloon
His invisible fiancee’s in the mirror
And the band is going home, it’s raining hammers, it’s raining nails
And it’s true there’s nothing left for him down here

And it’s time time time, and it’s time time time
And it’s time time time that you love
And it’s time time time

And they all pretend they’re orphans and their memory’s like a train
You can see it getting smaller as it pulls away
And the things you can’t remember tell the things you can’t forget
That history puts a saint in every dream

Well she said she’d stick around until the bandages came off
But these mama’s boys just don’t know when to quit
And Mathilda asks the sailors “Are those dreams or are those prayers?”
So close your eyes, son, and this won’t hurt a bit

Oh it’s time time time, and it’s time time time
And it’s time time time that you love
And it’s time time time

Well things are pretty lousy for a calendar girl
The boys just dive right off the cars and splash into the street
And when they’re on a roll she pulls a razor from her boot
And a thousand pigeons fall around her feet
So put a candle in the window and a kiss upon his lips
As the dish outside the window fills with rain
Just like a stranger with the weeds in your heart
And pay the fiddler off ’til I come back again

Oh it’s time time time, and it’s time time time
And it’s time time time that you love
And it’s time time time
And it’s time time time, and it’s time time time
And it’s time time time that you love
And it’s time time time.

LIE TO ME

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You got to lie to me…. If you don’t, then nothing moves on. This universe is built of lies. Think about it: if everybody always told the exact, whole, unaltered truth about every detail of their thoughts and actions we would all die an agonizing death of excruciating boredom!  Don’t take my word for it.  Try it.  Tell everyone the exact, unaltered truth about what you really think and what you really do all the time. Do it for 3 days. Even 24 hours.  Or, how about 20 minutes?  I dare you! Send me an e-mail and tell me what happened.  lrs@lawrencerspencer.com

Meanwhile, watch this Tom Waits video of his song title “LIE TO ME”:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3KnCL0S_Ws&feature=share&list=AL94UKMTqg-9BDxNZOybRbK_np1W_t39Ml