Well, God bless your crooked little heart
St. Louis got the best of me
I miss your broken-china voice
How I wish you were still here with me
Well, you build it up, you wreck it down
You burn your mansion to the ground
When there's nothing left to keep you here, when
You're falling behind in this
Big blue world
Oh you go to
Hold on, hold on
You got to hold on
Take my hand, I'm standing right here
You got to hold on
Thank-you, Mister Tom Waits.
1 comment:
'So, she left Monte Rio, son
just like a bullet leaves a gun
with charcoal eyes and Monroe hips
she went and took that California trip'
it's you, you, you...
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