Tom Waits Lyrics Quotes

Let me fall out of the window/ With confetti in my hair

The large print giveth and the small print taketh away.

I gaze out at the glittering sea, the breathtaking sky above it, and think of birds and the moment before the fall, and how my sister as a child had been strong enough for the both of us, and I wonder when exactly that changed. I don't know when, but it did. Jake was right - I'm strong in a way June never was. Because I know that I want to be here. Even with the pain. Even with the ugliness. I've seen the other side - marching side by side down city streets with people who all believe they can change the world and the view of the sunset from Fridgehenge and Tom Waits lyrics and doing the waltz and kisses so hot they melt into each other and best friends who hold your hand and stretching out underneath a sky draped with stars and everything else. There is so much beauty in just existing. In being alive. I don't want to miss a second.

When the weather's rough and it's whiskey in the rain it's best to wrap your savior up in cellophane.

I danced along a colored wind/ Dangled from a rope of sand

using parking meters as walking sticks.

You got to tell me brave captain, why are the wicked so strong, how do the angels get to sleep, when the devil leaves the porchlight on.

... there ain't no devil, it's just God when he's drunk.

Never trust a scarecrow wearin’ shades after dark.

Jake was right--I'm strong in a way June never was. Because I know that I want to be here. Even with the pain. Even with the ugliness. I've seen the other side--marching side by side down city streets with people who all believe they can change the world and the view of the sunset from Fridgehenge and Tom Waits lyrics and doing the waltz and kisses so hot they melt into each other and best friends who hold your hand and stretching out underneath a sky draped with stars and everything else. There is so much beauty in just existing. In being alive. I don't want to miss a second.

There ain't no such thing as the devil that's just god when he's drunk.

For all the bachelors out there tonight, yeah for anybody who's never whistled this song. Maybe you whistled it but you lost the sheet music. Um...this is um...well actually I don't mind going to weddings or anything, as long as there not my own I show up. But I've always kinda been partial to calling myself up on the phone and asking myself out, you know? Oh yeah, you call yourself up too huh? Yeah, well one thing about it, your always around. Yeah I know, yeah you ask yourself out, you know, some class joint somewhere. The Buretto King or something, you know. Well I ain't cheap you know. Take yourself out for a couple of drinks maybe. Then there'd be some provocative conversation on the way home. Park in front of the house you know. Oh yeah, you smoothly put a little nice music on, maybe you put on like uh, you know, like shopping music, something thats not too interruptive you know and then uh slide over real nice and say 'Oh I think you have something in your eye'. Well maybe it's not that romantic with you but Christ I don't know, you know I get into it you know. Take myself up to the porch, take myself inside or maybe uh, or may get a little something, a brandy snifter or something. 'Would like you like to listen to some of my back records? I got something here' Uh Well usually about 2.30 in the morning you've ended up taking advantage of yourself. There ain't no way around that you know. Yeah, making a scene with a magazine, there ain't no way around. I'll confess you know, I'm no different you know. I'm not weird about it or anything, I don't tie myself up first. I just kinda spend a little time with myself

a foreign affair juxtaposed with a stateside and domestically approved romantic fancy is mysteriously attractive due to circumstances knowing it will only be parlayed into a memory

J. S. Bach’s Cello Suites, the Aria from the Goldberg Variations and the ‘Erbarme Dich’ from his St Matthew Passion; Chopin’s Nocturnes; Messiaen’s Quatour pour la Fin de Temps; Górecki’s Third Symphony – composers have always nourished the interlacing of beauty and sadness. Lyrics only add more melancholy content: Richard Strauss’s ‘Morgen’ and the Vier Letzte Lieder; Tom Waits’ Closing Time and the songs of Rufus Wainwright; Elgar’s The Dream of Gerontius; the strains and pains of sex and death in Wagner’s

The Tom Waits song. Joy Division, ‘She’s Lost Control.’ Willie Nelson’s ‘The Gambler’—” “The fucking fuck you say. Bite your tongue till it bleeds, strumpet.” Pete froze in place, hands up in the air like he was beseeching an angry god. “ ‘The Gambler,’ I’ll have you know, is Kenny Rogers. Every father knows the lyrics to that song. It’s given to them by an angel upon the birth of their first child.