Bron: Album
Auteur(s): T. Waits
Uitgeefdatum: long time ago
Toelichting op de publicatie
Well, he came home from the warWith a party in his headAnd modified Brougham DeVilleAnd a pair of legs that opened up like butterfly wingsAnd a mad dog that wouldn’t sit stillHe went and took up with a Salvation Army band girlWho played dirty water on a swordfishtromboneHe went to sleep at the bottom of Tenkiller lakeAnd he said “gee, but it’s great to be home”Well, he came home from the war with a party in his headAnd an idea for a fireworks displayAnd he knew that he’d be ready with a stainless steel macheteAnd a half a pint of Ballentine’s each dayAnd he holed up in room above a hardware storeCryin’ nothing there but Hollywood tearsHe put a spell on some poor little Crutchfield girlAnd stayed like that for twenty-seven yearsHe packed up all his expectations, he lit out for CaliforniaWith a flyswatter banjo on his kneeWith a lucky tiger in his angel hair and Benzedrine for getting thereThey found him in a eucalyptus treeLieutenant got him a canary bird and skanked her head with every wordChesterfielded moonbeams in a songHe got twenty years for lovin’ her from some Oklahoma governorSaid “everything this Doughboy does is wrong”Now some say he’s doing the obituary mamboNow some say that he’s hanging on the wallPerhaps this yarn’s the only thing that holds this man togetherSome say he was never here at allAnd some say they saw him down in BirminghamSleeping in a boxcar going byAnd if you think that you can tell a bigger taleI swear to God you’d have to tell a lie
