103 days ago
This is Tom Waits, the great Tom Waits:
No shadow no stars
no moon no cars
November
it only believes
in a pile of dead leaves
and a moon
that's the color of bone
No prayers for November
to linger longer
stick your spoon in the wall
we'll slaughter them all
November has tied me
to an old dead tree
get word to April
to rescue me
November's cold chain
Made of wet boots and rain
and shiny black ravens
on chimney smoke lanes
November seems odd
you're my firing squad
November
Along the same lines and more (or worse?: the infamous Tiger Lillies.
I saw them last Tuesday, they are simply great. Irreverent dark cabaret, or great British black humour mixed with fine music and the hallucinating castrato voice of Martyn Jaques. Brecht with a touch of Lautréamont. Kill you!
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