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Through his wife\'s forehead

28. febrúar 2005 | 0 aths.

Frank's Wild Years með meistara Tom Waits var rétt í þessu að renna gegnum iTunes playlistann minn. Byrjunin á þessum ör-blús (sem síðar varð að söngleik!) er alltaf jafn mikil snilld: "Well Frank settled down in the Valley, and hung his wild years on a nail that he drove through his wife's forehead."

Leyfum meistaranum að klára lagið:

Well Frank settled down in the Valley
and 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 $30,000 loan
at 15 1/4 % 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, stopped at the liquor store,
picked up a couple Mickey's Big Mouths
drank 'em in the car on his way
to the Shell station, he got a gallon of
gas in a can, drove home, doused
everything in the house, torched it,
parked across the street, laughing,
watching it burn, all Halloween
orange and chimney red.

Then Frank put on a top forty station
got on the Hollywood Freeway
headed north.

Never could stand that dog.

Tom Waits, af "Swordfishtrombones" (1983)

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