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Tom Waits - "Small Change (Got Rained On With His Own .38)"
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ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
Tom Waits
Tom Waits
Вокал
Allan Harshman
Allan Harshman
Альт
David Schwartz
David Schwartz
Альт
Harry Bluestone
Harry Bluestone
Скрипка
Jesse Ehrlich
Jesse Ehrlich
Виолончель
Jim Hughart
Jim Hughart
Бас-гитара
Kathleen Lustgarten
Kathleen Lustgarten
Виолончель
Lew Tabackin
Lew Tabackin
Тенор-саксофон
Marvin Limonick
Marvin Limonick
Скрипка
Murray Adler
Murray Adler
Скрипка
Nathan Ross
Nathan Ross
Скрипка
Sam Boghossian
Sam Boghossian
Альт
Sheldon Sanov
Sheldon Sanov
Скрипка
Shelly Manne
Shelly Manne
Барабаны
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Tom Waits
Tom Waits
Автор песен
Jerry Yester
Jerry Yester
Аранжировщик струнных инструментов
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
Bones Howe
Bones Howe
Продюсер
Bill Broms
Bill Broms
Инженер
Geoff Howe
Geoff Howe
Инженер

Слова

Small Change got rained on with his own .38 And nobody flinched down by the arcade And the marquees weren't weeping They went stark-raving mad And the cabbies were the only ones That really had it made And his cold trousers were twisted and the sirens high and shrill And crumpled in his fist was a five-dollar bill And the naked mannequins with their cheshire grins And the raconteurs and roustabouts said "Buddy, come on in" 'Cause, 'cause the dreams ain't broken down here now They're walking with a limp Now that Small Change got rained on with his own .38 And nobody flinched down by the arcade And the burglar alarms been disconnected And the newsmen start to rattle And the cops are telling jokes About some whorehouse in Seattle And the fire hydrants plead the 5th Amendment And the furniture is bargains galore But the blood is by the jukebox on an old linoleum floor And what a hot rain on 42nd Street And now the umbrellas ain't got a chance And the newsboy's a lunatic with stains on his pants 'Cause, 'cause Small Change got rained on with his own .38 And no one's gone over to close his eyes And there's a racing form in his pocket circled 'Blue Boots' in the third And the cashier at the clothing store didn't say a word As the siren tears the night in half and someone lost his wallet Well, a surveillance of assailants if that's what you wanna to call it And the whores hike up their skirts and fish for drug-store prophylactics With their mouths cut just like razor blades And their eyes are like stilettos and her radiator's steaming And her teeth are in a wreck, and nah She won't let you kiss her but what the hell do you expect? And the gypsies are tragic and if you want to buy perfume Well, they'll bark you down like carnys Sell you Christmas cards in June But, but Small Change got rained on with his own .38 And his headstone's a gum ball machine No more chewing gum or baseball cards or overcoats or dreams Someone's hosing down the sidewalk, and he's only in his teens 'Cause, 'cause Small Change got rained on with his own .38 And a fistful of dollars can't change that And someone copped his watch fob, and someone got his ring And the newsboy got his pork pie Stetson hat And the tuberculosis old men at the Nelson wheeze and cough And someone will head south until this whole thing cools off 'Cause, 'cause Small Change got rained on with his own .38 Yeah, Small Change got rained on with his own .38
Writer(s): Thomas Alan Waits Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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