Tom Waits Putnam County Lyrics

I guess things were always kinda quiet around Putnam County
Kind of shy and sleepy as it clung to the skirts of the 2-lane
That was stretched out just like an asphalt dance floor
Where all the oldtimers would in bib jeans and store bought boots
Were hunkering down in the dirt to lie about their lives
And the places that they'd been
And they'd Suck on Coca Colas and be spittin' Days Work
they's be suckin' on Coca Colas, yeah and be spittin' Day's Work
Until the moon was a stray dog on the ridge and...
And the taverns would be swollen until the naked eye of 2am
And the Stratocasters slung over the Burgermeister beer guts
And the swizzle stick legs jacknifed over naugahyde stools, yeah
And the witch hazel spread out over the linoleum floors
Pedal pushers stretched out over midriff bulges
And the coiffed brunette curls over Maybelline eyes
Wearing Prince Machiavelli something (I don't know) Estee Lauder smells so sweet
And I elbowed up at the counter with mixed feelings over mixed drinks
As Bubba and the Roadmasters moaned in pool hall concentration
And knit their brows to cover the entire Hank Williams Song Book
Whether you like it or not
And the old National register was...was singing to the tune of $57.57, yeah
And then it's last call, one more game of 8 ball
Berneice would be putting the chairs on the tables
And someone come in say "Hey man, anyone got any Jumper Cables or...eh
Is that a 6 or a 12 volt?", yeah
And all the studs in town would toss 'em down
And claim to fame as they stomped their feet
Yeah, boasting about being able to get more a__ than a toilet seat
And the GMCs and the Straight 8 Fords were coughing and wheezing
And they perculated as they tossed the gravel
Underneath the fenders to weave home a wet slick anaconda of a two lane
Tire irons and a crowbars a rattling
With a tool box and a pony saddle
you're grinding gears and your shifting into first
Yeah and that goddam tranny's just getting worse, man
With the melody of "see ya later's"
And screwdrivers on carburettors
Talking shop about money to loan
And palominos and strawberry roans, yeah
See ya tomorrow, hello to the Mrs
With money to borrow and goodnight kisses
As the radio spit out Charlie Rich, man
And he sure can sing that sonofabitch
And you weave home, yeah weaving home
Leaving the little joint winking in the dark warm narcotic American night
Beneath a pin cushion sky and it's home to toast and honey
Gotta start up the Ford
Yeah and your lunch money's right over there on the draining board
And toilet's running, ah Christ, shake the handle
And the telephone's ringing it's Mrs Randal
And where the hell are my goddam sandals?
What do you mean the dog chew up my left foot?
With the porcelain poodles and the glass swans
Staring down from the knick knack shelf, yeah
And the parent permission slips for the kids' field trips
Yeah and pair of Muckalucks scraping across the s___ carpet, well
And the impending squint of first light
And it lurked behind a weeping marquee in downtown Putnam
Yeah and it'd would be pulling up any minute now
Just like a b______ amber Velveeta yellow cab on a rainy corner
And be blowing its horn, in every window in town