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Eggs and sausage (in a cadillac with susan michelson)

by Tom Waits


nighthawks at the diner
of Emma´s 49er, there´s a rendezvous
of strangers around the coffee urn tonight
all the gypsy hacks, the insomniacs
now the paper´s been read
now the waitress said

eggs and sausage and a side of toast
coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy
chile in a bowl with burgers and fries
what kind of pie?

In a graveyard charade, a late shift masquerade
2 for a quarter, dime for a dance
with Woolworth rhinestone diamond
earrings, and a sideway´s glance
and now the register rings
and now the waitress sings

eggs and sausage and a side of toast
coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy
chile in a bowl with burgers and fries
what kind of pie?

the classified section offered no direction
it´s a cold caffeine in a nicotine cloud
now the touch of your fingers
lingers burning in my memory
I´ve been 86ed from your scheme
I´m in a melodramatic nocturnal scene
I´m a refugee from a disconcerted affair
as the lead pipe morning falls
and the waitress calls

eggs and sausage and a side of toast
coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy
chile in a bowl with burgers and fries
what kind of pie?





 

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