Hoist That Rag.

God used me as hammer boys,

To beat his weary drum today.

Hoist that rag.

The sun is up the world is flat,

Damn good address for a rat.

The smell of blood, the drone of flies,

You know what to do if the baby cries.

Hoist that rag.

Well we stick our fingers in the ground,

Heave and turn the world around.

Smoke is blacking out the sun,

At night I pray and clean my gun.

The cracked bell rings and the ghost bird sings,

The gods go begging here.

So just open fire, as you hit the shore,

All is fair in love and war.

Hoist that rag.

Tom Waits – Hoist That Rag (2004)


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