Small Change
Tom Waits Lyrics


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Small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquees weren't weeping, they went stark-raving mad
And the cabbies were the only ones that really had it made
And his cold trousers were twisted, and the sirens high and shrill
And crumpled in his fist was a five-dollar bill
And the naked mannequins with their Cheshire grins
And the raconteurs and roustabouts said buddy, come on in, 'cause
'Cause the dreams ain't broken down here now, they're walking with a limp
Now that small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the burglar alarm's been disconnected
And the newsmen start to rattle
And the cops are telling jokes about some whorehouse in Seattle
And the fire hydrants plead the fifth amendment
And the furniture is bargains galore
But the blood is by the jukebox on an old linoleum floor
And what a hot rain on forty-second street
And now the umbrellas ain't got a chance
And the newsboy's a lunatic with stains on his pants, 'cause
'Cause small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

And no one's gone over to close his eyes
And there's a racing form in his pocket
Circled blue boots in the third
And the cashier at the clothing store didn't say a word
As the siren tears the night in half, and someone lost his wallet
Well, a surveillance of assailance, it that's what you want to call it
And the whores hike up their skirts and fish for drug-store prophylactics
With their mouths cut just like razor blades and their eyes are like stilettos
And her radiator's steaming and her teeth are in a wreck, and nah
She won't let you kiss her, but what the hell do you expect?
And the gypsies are tragic and if you want to buy perfume
Well, they'll bark you down like carneys, sell you christmas cards in June, but
But small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

And his headstone's a gumball machine
No more chewing gum or baseball cards or overcoats or dreams
Someone's hosing down the sidewalk, and he's only in his teens, 'cause
'Cause small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

And a fistful of dollars can't change that
And someone copped his watch fob, and someone got his ring
And the newsboy got his porkpie Stetson hat
And the tuberculosis old men at the nelson wheeze and cough
And someone will head south until this whole thing cools off, 'cause




'Cause small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight, yeah
Small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

Overall Meaning

"Small Change" by Tom Waits is a song that depicts the gritty reality of New York City in the 1970s. The song tells a story of a man who is caught in unfortunate circumstances after getting rained on with his own thirty-eight (referring to his gun). The lyrics describe how nobody flinched when this happened, emphasizing the harshness and indifference of the city. The marquees were not weeping but rather went "stark-raving mad" with lights flashing. The cabbies are the only ones that "really had it made," highlighting the class divisions in the city.


The man's cold trousers are twisted, and sirens are heard in the background. The naked mannequins with their "Cheshire grins" represent the emptiness of the commercialized city, while the "raconteurs and roustabouts" invite the man in, symbolizing the allure of the city's vices. The dreams may be walking with a limp, but they are not broken down here, implying that the city still draws people in with its promise of hope.


The song continues with vivid imagery of the rain on 42nd Street, with furniture bargains galore but blood on the linoleum floor. The newsboys are lunatics, and the whores have mouths cut like razor blades, further emphasizing the harshness of the city. The man's headstone is a gumball machine, showcasing the fleeting nature of life and how even small change can be taken away. In the end, someone will head south until the whole thing cools off, implying that the cycle repeats itself.


Overall, "Small Change" is a powerful commentary on urban life and the complex social dynamics of New York City in the 1970s.


Line by Line Meaning

Small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
Small change got caught in the rain with his own stolen gun


And nobody flinched down by the arcade
People were indifferent to the incident by the arcade


And the marquees weren't weeping, they went stark-raving mad
The lights were flickering in panic, not in mourning


And the cabbies were the only ones that really had it made
The cab drivers were the only ones benefiting from the chaos


And his cold trousers were twisted, and the sirens high and shrill
Small change was nervous, and the police sirens were loud and piercing


And crumpled in his fist was a five-dollar bill
Small change had a crumpled five-dollar bill in his hand


And the naked mannequins with their Cheshire grins
The mannequins in the store had eerie smiles on their faces


And the raconteurs and roustabouts said buddy, come on in, 'cause
The storytellers and laborers invited Small change to join them


'Cause the dreams ain't broken down here now, they're walking with a limp
Although things may be tough, hope still remains


And the burglar alarm's been disconnected,
The security system was disabled


And the newsmen start to rattle
The reporters were starting to get excited


And the cops are telling jokes about some whorehouse in Seattle
The police officers were making jokes about a brothel in Seattle


And the fire hydrants plead the fifth amendment
The fire hydrants had nothing to say about the situation


And the furniture is bargains galore
The furniture was on sale at low prices


But the blood is by the jukebox on an old linoleum floor
Despite the deals, there was still evidence of violence


And what a hot rain on forty-second street
It was raining heavily on the street


And now the umbrellas ain't got a chance
The umbrellas were useless in the downpour


And the newsboy's a lunatic with stains on his pants, 'cause
The newspaper boy was acting crazy with dirty pants


And no one's gone over to close his eyes
No one had gone to pay their respects to Small change


And there's a racing form in his pocket, circled blue boots in the third
Small change had a horse racing form in his pocket with a specific bet on it


And the cashier at the clothing store didn't say a word
The clothing store cashier remained silent


As the siren tears the night in half, and someone lost his wallet
The police siren was splitting the silence, and someone had lost their wallet


Well, a surveillance of assailance, it that's what you want to call it
The investigation was ongoing


And the whores hike up their skirts and fish for drug-store prophylactics
The prostitutes were searching for condoms in their revealing outfits


With their mouths cut just like razor blades and their eyes are like stilettos
Their speech was sharp, and their expression was intimidating


And her radiator's steaming and her teeth are in a wreck, and nah,
Her car was having mechanical issues, and her teeth were in bad condition


She won't let you kiss her, but what the hell do you expect?
She wasn't interested in intimacy


And the gypsies are tragic and if you want to buy perfume,
The gypsies were sorrowful, and if you wanted to buy perfume,


Well, they'll bark you down like carneys, sell you christmas cards in June, but
They would aggressively sell you their wares, even if it wasn't the right season


And his headstone's a gumball machine,
Small change's grave marker is a vending machine


No more chewing gum or baseball cards or overcoats or dreams
There won't be any more small pleasures, aspirations or dreams for Small change


Someone's hosing down the sidewalk, and he's only in his teens, 'cause
Someone was cleaning the sidewalk, and they were very young


And a fistful of dollars can't change that,
Money won't be able to reverse the situation


And someone copped his watch fob, and someone got his ring
Small change's personal effects were stolen


And the newsboy got his porkpie Stetson hat
The newspaper boy had taken Small change's hat


And the tuberculosis old men at the nelson wheeze and cough
The elderly men at The Nelson were suffering from tuberculosis


And someone will head south until this whole thing cools off, 'cause
Someone will leave town until things settle down




Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, JALMA MUSIC
Written by: Thomas Alan Waits

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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Most interesting comment from YouTube:

@Sly_Dawg

Small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight
And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the marquees weren't weeping, they went stark-raving mad
And the cabbies were the only ones that really had it made
And his cold trousers were twisted, and the sirens high and shrill
And crumpled in his fist was a five-dollar bill
And the naked mannequins with their Cheshire grins,
And the raconteurs and roustabouts said buddy, come on in, 'cause
'Cause the dreams ain't broken down here now, they're walking with a limp
Now that small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

And nobody flinched down by the arcade
And the burglar alarm's been disconnected,
And the newsmen start to rattle
And the cops are telling jokes about some whorehouse in Seattle
And the fire hydrants plead the fifth amendment
And the furniture is bargains galore
But the blood is by the jukebox on an old linoleum floor
And what a hot rain on forty-second street
And now the umbrellas ain't got a chance
And the newsboy's a lunatic with stains on his pants, 'cause
'Cause small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

And no one's gone over to close his eyes
And there's a racing form in his pocket,
Circled blue boots in the third
And the cashier at the clothing store didn't say a word
As the siren tears the night in half, and someone lost his wallet
Well, a surveillance of assailance, it that's what you want to call it
And the whores hike up their skirts and fish for drug-store prophylactics
With their mouths cut just like razor blades and their eyes are like stilettos
And her radiator's steaming and her teeth are in a wreck, and nah,
She won't let you kiss her, but what the hell do you expect?
And the gypsies are tragic and if you want to buy perfume,
Well, they'll bark you down like carneys, sell you christmas cards in June, but
But small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

And his headstone's a gumball machine,
No more chewing gum or baseball cards or overcoats or dreams
Someone's hosing down the sidewalk, and he's only in his teens, 'cause
'Cause small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight

And a fistful of dollars can't change that,
And someone copped his watch fob, and someone got his ring
And the newsboy got his porkpie Stetson hat
And the tuberculosis old men at the nelson wheeze and cough
And someone will head south until this whole thing cools off, 'cause
'Cause small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight, yeah,
Small change got rained on with his own thirty-eight



All comments from YouTube:

@wjack4728

"Dreams ain't broken down here now, they're walkin' with a limp" What a great line! Love it!

@SenseiNWDA

The hero for those of us old enough to remember smoky coffeehouses and the "Beat" generation.

@antonboludo8886

Yeah :D

@johnl1685

Oh yeah. There were two different ones on Broad Street in Philly that I went to. "The Artist's Hut" and. "The Owl Tree". Very hip places. Both of them were in basements.

@JonathanSureau1

Some folks have a gift. The imagery and his voice, the sax wailing a running commentary - Somewhere, just out of sight I can see Kerouac leaning against a lamp post nodding to the rhythm of words painting a uniquely American scene so impeccably.

@jamesbueker11

Love the sexaphone so much. Simplicity is an awesome thing. Pure beauty in the minimalist approach

@774CISCO

Keeps me alive on late nights into oblivion, thank you Mr Waits

@carmin1999

This guy is light yearz ahead of his time.!!!

@johnnyp8979

Excellent gravel voice, excellent written words and story behind it all...
Creating a short novel, vivid short novel...

@christopherbacon1077

He's very good at that

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