Artist: Tom Waits Album: Swordfishtrombones {1983}

Rattle big black bones in the danger zone
There's a rumbling groan down below
There's a big dark town, it's a place I've found
There's a world going on underground

They're alive, they're awake
While the rest of the world is asleep
Below the mine shaft roads it will all unfold
There's a world going on underground

All the roots hang down, swing from town to town
They are marching around down under your boots
All the trucks unload beyond the gopher holes
There's a world going on underground

Well, with buck shot eyes and a purple heart I rolled down the national stroll
And with a big fat paycheck strapped to my hip sack and a shore leave wristwatch underneath my sleeve
In a Hong Kong drizzle on Cuban heels I rowed down the gutter to the Blood Bank
And I'd left all my papers on the Ticonderoga and I was in a bad need of a shave
I slopped at the corner on cold chow mein and shot billards with a midget until the rain stopped
And I bought a long sleeved shirt with horses on the front and some gum and a lighter and a knife
And a new deck of cards with girls on the back and I sat down and wrote a letter to my wife
And I said, baby, I'm so far away from home and I miss my baby so
I can't make it by myself, I love you so

And I was pacing myself trying to make it all last
Squeezing all the life out of a lousy two day pass
I had a cold one at the Dragon with some Filipino floor show
And I talked baseball with a lieutenant over a Singapore sling
And I wondered how the same moon outside over this Chinatown fair
Could look down on Illinois and find you there
You know I love you, baby and so far away from home
I'm so far away from home and I miss my baby so
I can't make it by myself, I love you so

Shore leave, shore leave, shore leave, shore leave
Shore leave, shore leave, shore leave, shore leave
Shore leave, shore leave, shore leave, shore leave
Shore leave, shore leave, shore leave, shore leave

INSTRUMENTAL

She's my only true love, she's all that I think of
Look here in my wallet, that's her
She grew up on a farm there
There's a place on my arm where I've written her name next to mine
You see, I just can't live without her and I'm her only boy
And she grew up outside McHenry in Johnsburg, Illinois

Plugged sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
And a black crow snuck through a hole in the sky
So, I spent all my buttons on an old pack mule
Oh, and I made me a ladder from a pawn shop marimba
And I leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Leaned it up against a dandelion tree, leaned it up against a dandelion tree
Mon cooked them feathers on a time spit
And I filled me a sachel full of old pig corn
And I beat me a billy from an old French horn
Oh, and I kicked that mule to the top of the tree, kicked that mule to the top of the tree
Blew me a hole bout the size of a kickdrum
And I cut me a switch from a long branch elbow

I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six

Well, I slept in the holler of a dry creek bed
And I tore out the bucket from a red Corvette, tore out the bucket from a red Corvette
Lionel and Dave and the Butcher made three
You got to meet me by the knuckles of the skinnybone tree
With the strings of a Washburn stretched like a clothes line
Oh, you know me and that mule scrambled right through the hole
Me and that mule scrambled right through the hole

I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six

Now, I hold him prisoner in a Washburn jail
That I strapped on the back of my old kick mule, strapped it on the back of my old kick mule
Bang on the strings just to drive him crazy
Oh, I strum it loud to rattle his cage, strum it loud just to rattle his cage
Strum it loud just to rattle his cage, strum it loud just to rattle his cage

Oh, I'm gonna whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six
Whittle you into kindlin'
Black Crow, sixteen shells from a thirty-ought-six

Well, it's hotter than blazes and all the long faces
There'll be no oasis for a dry local grazier
There'll be no refreshment for a thirsty jackaroo
From Melbourne to Adelaide on the overlander
With newfangled buffet cars and faster locomotives
The train stopped in Serviceton less and less often
Now, there's nothing sadder than a town with no cheer
Vic Rail decided the canteen was no longer necessary
No spirits, no bilgewater and eighty dry locals
And the high noon sun beats a hundred and four
There's a hummingbird trapped in a closed down shoe store
This tiny Victorian rhubarb kept the watering hole open for sixty five years
Now, it's boilin' in a miserable March twenty-first
Wrapped the hills in a blanket of Patterson's curse
The train smokes down the xylophone, there'll be no stopping here
All you can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer

No Bourbon, no Branchwater, though the townspeople here
Fought the Vic Rail decree tooth and nail
Now, it's boilin' in a miserable March twenty-first
Wrapped the hills in a blanket of Patterson's curse
The train smokes down the xylophone, there'll be no stopping here
All you can be is thirsty in a town with no cheer

Well, the eggs chase the bacon round the frying pan
And the whining dog pidgeons by the steeple bell rope
And the dogs tipped the garbage pails over last night
And there's always construction work bothering you
In the neighborhood, in the neighborhood, in the neighborhood

Well, Friday's a funeral and Saturday's a bride
Sey's got a pistol on the registers side
And the goddamn delivery trucks, they make too much noise
And we don't get our butter delivered no more
In the neighborhood, in the neighborhood, in the neighborhood

Well, Big Mambo's kicking his old greyhound
And the kids can't get ice cream cos the market burned down
And the newspaper sleeping bags blow down the lane
And that goddamn flatbed's got me pinned in again
In the neighborhood, in the neighborhood, in the neighborhood

There's a couple Filipino girls gigglin' by the church
And the window is busted and the landlord ain't home
And Butch joined the army, yeah, that's where he's been
And the jackhammer's digging up the sidewalks again
In the neighborhood, in the neighborhood, in the neighborhood
In the neighborhood, in the neighborhood, in the neighborhood

INSTRUMENTAL

Frank settled down out in the Valley
And he hung his wild years on a nail that he drove through his wife's forehead
He sold used office furniture out there on San Fernando Road
And assumed a thirty-thousand dollar loan at fifteen and a quarter percent
And put down payment on a little two bedroom place
His wife was a spent piece of used jet trash
Made good bloody marys, kept her mouth shut most of the time
Had a little Chihuahua named Carlos that had some kind of skin disease and was totally blind
They had a thoroughly modern kitchen, self-cleaning oven, the whole bit
Frank drove a little sedan, they were so happy
One night Frank was on his way home from work
He stopped at the liquor store, picked up a couple of Mickey's Big Mouths
Drank 'em in the car on his way to the Shell station
Got a gallon of gas in a can
Drove home, doused everything in the house, torched it
Parked across the street laughing and watching it burn
All Halloween orange and chimney red
Then Frank put on a top forty station
Got on the Hollywood Freeway and headed north
Never could stand that dog 

Well, he came home from the war with a party in his head
And a modified Brougham DeVille
And a pair of legs that opened up like butterfly wings
And a mad dog that wouldn't sit still
He went and took up with a Salvation Army Band girl
Who played Dirty Water from a swordfishtrombone
He went to sleep at the bottom of Tenkiller Lake
And he said "Gee, but it's great to be home."

Well, he came home from the war with a party in his head
And an idea for a fireworks display
He knew that he'd be ready with a stainless steel machete
And a half a pint of Ballentine's each day
And he holed up in room above a hardware store
Cryin' nothing there but Hollywood tears
And he put a spell on some poor little Crutchfield girl
And stayed like that for twenty-seven years

He packed up all his expectations, he lit out for California
With a flyswatter banjo on his knee
With a lucky tiger in his angel hair and benzedrine for getting there
They found him in a eucalyptus tree
Lieutenant got him a canary bird and skanked her head with every word
And Chesterfielded moonbeams in a song
He got twenty years for lovin' her from some Oklahoma governor
Said everything this Doughboy does is wrong

Now, some say he's doing the obituary mambo
Now, some say that he's hanging on the wall
Perhaps this yarn is the only thing that holds this man together
Some say he was never here at all
Some say they saw him down in Birmingham
Sleeping in a boxcar goin' by
And if you think that you can tell a bigger tale
I swear to God you'd have to tell a lie 

He went down, down, down and the devil called him by name
He went down, down, down, hangin' onto the back of a train
He went down, down, down, this boy went solid down
Always chewed tobacco and the bathtub gin
Always chewed tobacco and the bathtub gin
Went down, down, down, this boy went solid down, he went down

Well, he went down, down, down and the devil took it on his head
He went down, down, down, staying in a broken down shed
Oh, he went down, down, down, sleeping in the devil's bed
He went down, down, down, never listened to the words I said
He went down, down, down, down, down, well, he went down

Well, he went down, down, down and the devil said, "Where you been?"
He went down, down, down, he was screaming down around the bend
Down, down, down, this boy went solid down
He was always cheatin' and he always told lies
He was always cheatin' and he always told lies
Down, down, down, this boy went solid down, he went down

Davenports and kettle drums and swallow tail coats
And table cloths and patent leather shoes
Bathing suits and bowling balls and clarinets and rings
All this radio really needs is a fuse
A tinker, a tailor, a soldier's things
His rifle, his boots full of rocks
Oh, and this one is for bravery, oh, and this one is for me
And everything's a dollar in this box

Cuff links and hub caps and trophies and paperbacks
It's good transportation but the brakes aren't so hot
Neck tie and boxing gloves, this jackknife is rusted
You can pound that dent out on the hood
A tinker, a tailor, a soldier's things
His rifle, his boots full of rocks
Oh, and this one is for bravery, oh, and this one is for me
And everything's a dollar in this box

I got a belly full of you and that Leavenworth stuff
Now, I'm gonna get out and I'm gonna get tough
You been lyin' to me, how could you crawl so low
With some gin-soaked boy that you don't know

I come home last night full a fifth of Old Crow
You said you going to your ma's, but where the hell did you go
You went and slipped out nights, you didn't think that I'd know
With some gin-soaked boy that you don't know

Well, I would bet you as far as Oklahoma by now
The dogs are barking out back and you're knittin' your brow
Well, I'm on your tail, sussed your M.O.
Some gin-soaked boy boy that you don't know

Well, I pulled on trouble's braids
And I hid in the briars out by the quick mud, stayin' away from the main roads
Passing out wolf tickets downwind from the blood hounds
And I pulled on trouble's braids
And I lay by a cypress as quiet as a stone till the bleeding stopped
I blew the weather vane off some old road house
I built a fire in the skeleton back seat of an old Tucker
And I pulled on trouble's braids
I spanked cold red mud where the hornet stung deep
And I tossed in the ditch in a restless sleep
And I pulled on trouble's braids
I hung my rain-soaked jacket on some old barbed wire
Poured cold rusty water on a miserable fire
And I pulled on trouble's braids
The creek was swollen by daybreak and I could just barely see
And I floated downstream on an old dead tree
And I pulled on trouble's braids
I pulled on trouble's braids, I pulled on trouble's braids

INSTRUMENTAL