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"And their memory's like a train
You can see it getting smaller as it pulls away"

I like this description of memory by Tom Waits. His lyrics manage to say so very much with comparatively few words and The descriptions are normally poetic and oblique. Like so many of his, this is a very sad song. Every couplet paints a mental image: "It's raining hammers, it's raining nails" is a genius level of lyricism. And what on earth does this mean:

"And the things you can't remember
Tell the things you can't forget that
History puts a saint in every dream"?

I'm not sure, but it makes me think.

The clip below is taken from a brilliant film that was put together from several of his (fairly rare) live shows.

Here is the whole thing:

Well, the smart money's on Harlow
And the moon is in the street
The shadow boys are breaking all the laws
And you're east of East St. Louis
And the wind is making speeches
And the rain sounds like a round of applause
Napoleon is weeping in the Carnival saloon
His invisible fiance is in the mirror
The band is going home
It's raining hammers, it's raining nails
Yes, it's true, there's nothing left for him down here

Chorus:
And it's Time Time Time
And it's Time Time Time
And it's Time Time Time
That you loved
And it's Time Time Time

And they all pretend they're Orphans
And their memory's like a train
You can see it getting smaller as it pulls away
And the things you can't remember
Tell the things you can't forget that
History puts a saint in every dream
Well she said she'd stick around
Until the bandages came off
But these mamas boys just don't know when to quit
And Matida asks the sailors are those dreams
Or are those prayers
So just close your eyes, son
And this won't hurt a bit

Chorus

Well, things are pretty lousy for a calendar girl
The boys just dive right off the cars
And smash into the street
And when she's on a roll she pulls a razor
From her boot and a thousand
Pigeons fall around her feet
So put a candle in the window
And a kiss upon his lips
As the dish outside the window fills with rain
Just like a stranger with the weeds in your heart
And pay the fiddler off till I come back again

Cheers, Tom.