Report Lyric Error | Azlyricdb.com: Your Song Lyrics Database

Song title: Tom Waits - The Ghost Of Saturday Night

Edit By: 216.73.216.149

(AFTER HOURS AT NAPOLEONE'S PIZZA HOUSE)

A cab combs the snake,
 Tryin' to rake in that last night's fare,
 And a solitary sailor
 Who spends the facts of his life like small change on strangers...

Paws his inside P-coat pocket for a welcome twenty-five cents,
 And the last bent butt from a package of Kents,
 As he dreams of a waitress with Maxwell House eyes
 And marmalade thighs with scrambled yellow hair.

Her rhinestone-studded moniker says, "Irene"
 As she wipes the wisps of dishwater blonde from her eyes

And the Texaco beacon burns on,
 The steel-belted attendant with a 'Ring and Valve Special'...
 Cryin' "Fill'er up and check that oil"
 "You know it could be a distributor and it could be a coil."

The early mornin' final edition's on the stands,
 And that town cryer's cryin' there with nickels in his hands.
 Pigs in a blanket sixty-nine cents,
 Eggs - roll 'em over and a package of Kents,
 Adam and Eve on a log, you can sink 'em damn straight,
 Hash browns, hash browns, you know I can't be late.

And the early dawn cracks out a carpet of diamond
 Across a cash crop car lot filled with twilight Coupe Devilles,
 Leaving the town in a-keeping
 Of the one who is sweeping
 Up the ghost of Saturday night...

All lyrics are property of their respective authors, artists and labels and are strictly for non-commercial use only.
Copyright © 2009-2026 Azlyricdb.com. All Rights Reserved | Privacy policy | Blog