FOREIGN AFFAIRS

Music and Lyrics by Tom Waits


liar liar with your pants on fire,
white spades hangin' on the telephone
wire, gamblers reevaluate along the dotted line,
you'll never recognize
yourself on heartattack and vine.

doctor lawyer beggar man thief,
philly joe remarkable looks on in disbelief,
if you want a taste of madness,
you'll have to wait in line, you'll probably
see someone you know on heartattack and vine.

boney's high on china white, shorty found a punk,
don't you know there ain't
no devil, there's just god when he's drunk,
well this stuff will probably kill
you, let's do another line,
what you say you meet me down
on heartattack and vine.

better off in iowa against your scrambled eggs,
than crawling down cahuenga on a broken pair of legs,
you'll find your ignorance is blissful every goddamn time,
your're waitin' for the rtd
on heartattack and vine.

Music and Lyrics by Tom Waits and Kathleen Brennan


Well, they're lining up
To mad dog your tilta whirl
3 shots for a dollar
Win a real live doll
All the lies that you tell
I believed them so well. take them back
Take them back to your red house
For that fearful leap into the dark
I did my time
In the jail of your arms
Now ophelia wants to know
Where she should turn
Tell me...what did you do
What did you do the last time?
Why dont you do that
Go on ahead and take this the wrong way
Times not your friend
Do you cry. do you pray
Do you wish them away
Do you still leave nothing
But bones in the way
Did you bury the carnival
Lions and all
Excuse me while I sharpen my nails
And just who are you this time?
You look rather tired
(who drinks from your shoe)
Are you pretending to love
Well I hear that it pays well
How do your pistol and your Bible and your
Sleeping pills go?
Are you still jumping out of windows in expensive clothes?
Well I fell in love
With your sailors mouth and your wounded eyes
You better get down on the floor
Dont you know this is war
Tell me who are you this time?
Tell me who are you this time?

Music and Lyrics by Tom Waits

I should go out and honk the horn, it's Independence Day
But instead I just pour myself a drink
It's got to be love, I've never felt this way
Oh baby, this one's from the heart

The shadows on the wall look like a railroad track
I wonder if he's ever comin' back
The moon's a yellow stain across the sky
Oh baby, this one's from the heart

Maybe I'll go down to the corner and get a racin' form
But I should prob'ly wait here by the phone
And the brakes need adjustment on the convertible
Oh baby, this one's from the heart

The worm is climbin' the avocado tree
Rubbin' its back against the wall
Pour myself a double sympathy
Oh baby, this one's from the heart

Blondes, brunettes, and redheads put their hammer down
To pound a cold chisel through my heart
But they were nothin' but apostrophes
Oh baby, this one's from the heart

I can't tell, is that a siren or a saxophone?
But the roads get so slippery when it rains
I love you more than all these words can ever say
Oh baby, this one's from the heart

Music by Tom Waits
Lyrics by Tom Waits

The evening fell just like a star
Left a trail behind
You spit as you slammed out the door
If this is love we're crazy
As we fight like cats and dogs
But I just know there's got to be more

So please call me, baby
Wherever you are
It's too cold to be out walking in the streets
We do crazy things when we're wounded
Everyone's a bit insane
I don't want you catching your death of cold
Out walking in the rain

I admit that I ain't no angel
I admit that I ain't no saint
I'm selfish and I'm cruel but you're blind
If I exorcise my devils
Well my angels may leave too
When they leave they're so hard to find

Please call me, baby
Wherever you are
It's too cold to be out walking in the streets
We do crazy things when we're wounded
Everyone's a bit insane
I don't want you catching your death of cold
Out walking in the rain

We're always at each other's throats
You know, it drives me up the wall
Most of the time I'm just blowing off steam
And I wish to God you'd leave me
Baby, I wish to God you'd stay
Life's so different than it is in your dreams

Please call me, baby
Wherever you are
It's too cold to be out walking in the streets
We do crazy things when we're wounded
Everyone's a bit insane
I don't want you catching your death of cold
Out walking in the rain

Music by Tom Waits
Lyrics by Tom Waits

Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight,
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquees weren't weeping,
they went stark-raving mad,
And the cabbies were the only ones that really had it made
And his cold trousers were twisted,
and the sirens high and shrill,
And crumpled in his fist was a five-dollar bill
And the naked mannequins with their Cheshire grins,
And the raconteurs and roustabouts said "Buddy, come on in, 'cause
'Cause the dreams ain't broken down here now, they're walking with a limp
Now that Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight"

And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the burglar alarm's been disconnected,
And the newsmen start to rattle
And the cops are telling jokes about some whorehouse in Seattle
And the fire hydrants plead the Fifth Amendment
And the furniture is bargains galore
But the blood is by the jukebox on an old linoleum floor
And what a hot rain on Forty-Second Street,
And now the umbrellas ain't got a chance
And the newsboy's a lunatic with stains on his pants, 'cause
'Cause Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

And no one's gone over to close his eyes
And there's a racing form in his pocket,
Circled "Blue Boots" in the third
And the cashier at the clothing store didn't say a word
As the siren tears the night in half, and someone lost his wallet
Well, a surveillance of assailance, it that's what you want to call it
And the whores hike up their skirts and fish for drug-store prophylactics
With their mouths cut just like razor blades and their eyes are like stilettos
And her radiator's steaming and her teeth are in a wreck, and nah,
She won't let you kiss her, but what the hell do you expect?
And the Gypsies are tragic and if you want to buy perfume,
Well, they'll bark you down like carneys, sell you Christmas cards in June, but
But Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

And his headstone's a gumball machine,
No more chewing gum or baseball cards or overcoats or dreams
Someone's hosing down the sidewalk, and he's only in his teens, 'cause
'Cause Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

And a fistful of dollars can't change that,
And someone copped his watch fob, and someone got his ring
And the newsboy got his porkpie Stetson hat
And the tuberculosis old men at the Nelson wheeze and cough
And someone will head south until this whole thing cools off, 'cause
'Cause Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight, yeah,
Small Change got rained on with his own thirty-eight