Noirsville Tune of the Week

 More Tom Waits

Semi Suite

Well, you hate those diesels rolling

Those Friday nights out bowling

When he's off for a twelve-hour lay over night

You wish you had a dollar

For every time he hollered

That he's leaving and he's never coming back

But the curtain-laced billow

And his hands on your pillow

And his trousers are hanging on the chair

You're lying through your pain, babe

But you're gonna tell him he's your man

And you ain't got the courage to leave

He tells you that you're on his mind

You're the only one he's ever gonna find that's

Kind of special, and understands his complicated soul

But the only place a man can breathe

And collect his thoughts is

Midnight and flying away on the road

But you've packed and unpacked

So many times you've lost track

And the steam heat is dripping off the walls

But when you hear his engines

You're looking through the window in the kitchen and you know

You're always gonna be there when he calls

Cause he's a truck driving man, stopping when he can

He's a truck driving man, stopping when he can