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Tom Waits

Genres: Rock

Nighthawk Postcards Lyrics - Tom Waits

there's a blur drizzle down the plateglass 

as a neon swizzle stick stirrin up the sultry night air 

and a yellow biscuit of a buttery cue ball moon 

rollin' maverick across an obsidian sky 

as the busses go groanin' and wheezin', 

down on the corner I'm freezin'; 

on a restless boulevard at a midnight road 

I'm across town from EASY STREET 

with the tight knots of moviegoers and out of towners 

on the stroll 

and the buildings towering high above 

lit like dominoes or black dice 

all the used car salesmen dressed up in 

Purina Checkerboard slacks 

and Foster Grant wrap-around, 

pacing in front of EARL SCHLEIB 

$39.95 merchandise 

like barkers at a shootin' gallery 

they throw out kind of a Texas Guinan routine 

"Hello sucker, we like your money 

just as well as anybody else's here" 

or they give you the P.T. Barnum bit 

"There's a sucker born every minute 

you just happened to be comin' along at the right time" 

come over here now 

you know... all the harlequin sailors are on the stroll 

in a search of "LIKE NEW," "NEW PAINT," 

decent factory air and AM-FM dreams 

and the piss yellow gypsy cabs 

stacked up in the taxi zones waitin' like 

pinball machines 

to be ticking off a joy ride to a magical place 

waitin' in line like "truckers welcome" diners 

with dirt lots full of 

Peterbilts, Kenworths, Jimmy's and the like, and 

they're hiballin' with bankrupt brakes, over driven 

under paid, over fed, a day late and a dollar short 

but Christ I got my lips around a bottle and 

my foot on the throttle and I'm standin' on the corner 

standin' on the corner like a "just in town" 

jasper, on a street corner with a gasper lookin 

' for some kind of Cheshire billboard grin 

stroking a goateed chin, and using parking meters 

as walking sticks on the inebriated stroll 

with my eyelids propped open at half mast 

but you know... over at Chubb's Pool Hall and Snooker 

it was a nickle after two, yea it was a nickle after two 

and in the cobalt steel blue dream smoke, it 

was the radio that groaned out the hit parade 

and the chalk squeaked, the floorboards creaked 

and an Olympia sign winked through a torn yellow 

shade, old Jack Chance himself leanin' up against 

a Wurlitzer and eyeballin' out a 5 ball combination shot 

impossible you say? ...hard to believe?, perhaps 

out of the realm of possibility? naaaa 

he be stretchin' out long tawny fingers out across a 

cool green felt with a provocative golden gate 

and a full table railshot that's no sweat and I leaned 

up against my bannister and wandered over to the 

Wurlitzer and I punched A-2 I was lookin' for 

something like Wine, Wine, Wine by the Night Caps 

starring Chuck E. Weiss or High Blood Pressure 

by George (cryin' in the streets) Perkins - no dice 

"that's life," that's what all the people say ridin' high 

in April, seriously shot down in May, but I know I'm 

gonna change that tune when I'm standing underneath 

a buttery moon that's all melted off to one side 

It was just about that time that the sun 

came crawlin' yellow out of a manhole 

at the foot of 23rd Street 

and a dracula moon in a black disguise 

was making its way back to its 

pre-paid room at the St. Moritz Hotel (scat) 

and the El train came tumbling across the trestles and it sounded 

like the ghost of Gene Krupa 

with an overhead cam and glasspacks 

and the whispering brushes of wet radials 

on a wet pavement and there's a 

traffic jam session on Belmont tonight 

and the rhapsody of the pending 

evening, I leaned up against 

my bannister and I've been looking 

for some kind of an emotional 

investment with romantic dividends 

kind of a physical negociation 

is underway 

as I attempt to consolidate all my 

missed weekly payments, into 

one-low-monthly payment 

through the nose 

with romantic residuals and leg akimbo 

but the chances are more than likely I'll probably 

be held over for another smashed weekend 

 

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