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  • It's a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace, and a wound that will never heal. No prima donna, the perfume is on an old shirt that is stained with blood and whiskey. Goodnight to the street sweepers, the night watchmen flame keepers and goodnight, Matilda, too.

    Tom Waits (2007). “The Early Years: The Lyrics of Tom Waits 1971-1983”, Ecco
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