Little Tom, what will be your fate? Little Tom, will you be someone great? Do you know right from wrong, are they teaching you at home? Or have they turned
Sit still, take a trip into my eyes You're unstable still to my surprise Be honest but never catch my lies Don't say you're the one who always tries
[Incomprehensible] I was brittle Crushed and tore your name from leaf hearts And blades of grass, they were lost in the haze And it's funny, he still
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Well she's up against the register With an apron and a spatula With yesterday's deliveries And the tickets for the bachelors She's a moving violation
I'm disheveled I'm disdainful And I'm distracted and it's painful But this job sweeping up here is Is gainfully employing me tonight Tom do this and Tom do that Tom
Well, the gigolo's jumpin' salty Ain't no trade out on the streets Half past the unlucky And the hawk's a front row seat Dressed in full orchestration
Small Change got rained on with his own .38 And nobody flinched down by the arcade And the marquees weren't weeping They went stark-raving mad And the
Well, I'm a jitterbug boy by the shoe-shine Resting on my laurels and my Hardy's too Life of Riley on a swing shift gears follow my drift Once upon a
Lazy trip to Heaven on the wings of your love Banana moon is shining in the sky Feel like I'm in Heaven when you're with me Know that I'm in heaven when
Last night, I had a dream about everybody here You were all wearing smart red tops in the opening scene Looking at me kinda strange 'cos I was wearing
When I was just a little boy we lived down on a farm Seven miles from nowhere and a hundred miles from harm We made our livin' from the dirt if anything
The little green flower with the yellow on top You told me the name but I soon forgot I know roses and forget-me-nots what's That little green flower
A little brown suitcase at the top of the stairs Not much to start with and worse for the wear Mama said Virgil let's throw that away He said, "No, it
nos places assisses, on baptise nos biz, betises, nos premiers vices s'aiguisent. La 5, les Stranges, Goldorak en themes de jeux, c'etait les Jours Heureux pour un petit
thought we was flops What? It's CMW, punk, it's time to get mopped Listen closely to what it's about It's a petition, so we can boot your punk-ass out
(Waits/Brennan) Poor little lamb now his fleece is all cold Wakes up in the morning alone Poor little lamb knows what's coming Life is an empty cup
(Tom Waits/Kathleen Brennan) I like my town with a little drop of poison Nobody knows they're lining up to go insane I'm all alone, I smoke my friends