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terça-feira, março 14, 2006

"Started as a title, then became just a junkyard for uh . . . one banjo and drums there"

Telephone Call From Istanbul

All night long on the broken glass
Livin’ in a medicine chest
Mediteromanian hotel back
Sprawled across a roll top desk

The monkey rode the blade on an overhead fan
They paint the donkey blue if you pay
I got a telephone call from Istanbul
My baby’s comin’ home today

Will you sell me one of those if I shave my head?
Get me out of town, is what Fireball said
Never trust a man in a blue trench coat
Never drive a car when you’re dead

Saturday’s a festival, Friday’s a gem
Dye your hair yellow and raise your hem
Follow me to Beulah’s on Dry Creek Road
I got to wear the hat that my baby done sewed, whoo!

Will you sell me one of those if I shave my head?
Get me out of town, is what Fireball said
Never trust a man in a blue trench coat
Never drive a car when you’re dead

Saturday’s a festival, Friday’s a gem
Dye your hair yellow and raise your hem
Follow me to Beulah on Dry Creek Road
I got to wear the hat that my baby done sewed

Well, take me down to buy a tux on Red Rose Bear
I got to cut a hole in the day
I got a telephone call from Istanbul
My baby’s comin’ home today

Sell me one of those if I shave my head
Get me out of town, is what Fireball said
Never trust a man in a blue trench coat
Never drive a car when you’re dead

Saturday’s a festival, Friday’s a gem
Dye your hair yellow and raise your hem
Follow me to Beulah’s on Dry Creek Road
I got to wear the hat that my baby done sewed, whoo!


Tom Waits


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