(Got Rained on with His Own .38)
|
|
Well small change got rained on with his own .38
|
and nobody flinched down by the arcade
|
and the marquise 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 mannikins with their
|
cheshire grins
|
and the raconteurs
|
and roustabouts said buddy
|
come on in
|
cause the dreams ain't broken down here now
|
now ...they're walking with a limp
|
now that
|
|
small change got rained on with his own .38"
|
and nobody flinched down by the arcade
|
and the burglar alarm's been disconnected
|
and the newsmen start to rattle
|
and the cops are tellin' jokes
|
about some whore house in Seattle
|
and the fire hydrants plead the 5th Amendment
|
and the furniture's bargains galore
|
but the blood is by the jukebox
|
on an old linoleum floor
|
and it's a hot rain on 42nd Street
|
and now the umbrellas ain't got a chance
|
And the newsboy's a lunatic
|
with stains on his pants cause
|
|
small change got rained on with his own .38
|
and no one's gone over to close his eyes
|
and there's a racing form in his pocket
|
circled "Blue Boots" in the 3rd
|
and the cashier at the clothing store
|
he didn't say a word as the
|
siren tears the night in half
|
and someone lost his wallet
|
well it's surveillance of assailants
|
if that's whatchawannacallit
|
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
|
now she won't let you kiss her
|
but what the hell do you expect
|
and the Gypsies are tragic and if you
|
wanna to buy perfume, well
|
they'll bark you down like
|
carneys... sell you Christmas cards in June
|
but...
|
|
small change got rained on with his own .38
|
and his headstone's
|
a gumball machine
|
no more chewing gum
|
or baseball cards or
|
overcoats or dreams and
|
someone is hosing down the sidewalk
|
and he's only in his teens
|
|
small change got rained on with his own .38
|
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
|
small change got rained on with his own .38
|
yea small change got rained on with his own .38
|
|
-----------------
|
Small Change
|
Tom Waits |