Thomas Alan Waits je americký písničkář, šansoniér, autor písní a herec. O jeho hlase jeden americký kritik napsal: „ Jako kdyby byl naložený v sudu s bourbonem, potom pár měsíců visel v udírně a nakonec přes něj přejelo auto. “ Gery Graff. Na...
Píseň: We're All Mad Here
You can hang me in a bottle like a cat Let the crows pick me clean but for my hat Where the wailing of a baby Meets the footsteps of the dead We're all mad here As the devil sticks his flag into the mud Mrs Carol has run off with Reverend Judd Hell is such a lonely place And your big expensive face will never last And you'll die with the rose still on your lips And in time the heart-shaped bone that was your hips And the worms, they will climb the rugged ladder of your spine We're all mad here And my eyeballs roll this terrible terrain And we're all inside a decomposing train And your eyes will die like fish And the shore of your face will turn to bone
