| Song | Don't Wait For Tom |
| Artist | Over the Rhine |
| Album | Live From Nowhere, Volume 3 |
| He's got the hands of a blind piano player | |
| He's got a feel for the dark like a soothsayer | |
| He takes a little bow and tips his fedora | |
| Shouts like he's gonna save Sodom and Gomorrah | |
| Workin' for the circus ex-railroad bum | |
| Carnival barker for kingdom dot come | |
| Dusty ol' Gibson, opposable thumb | |
| Bangs out the rhythm on a fifty gallon drum | |
| Don't wait for Tom, Tom's long gone, he's already moved on | |
| Don't wait for Tom | |
| I saw an ol' '55 Buick just before the dawn | |
| I said, Hey, hey Tom, the sun's comin' up, you got your wipers on | |
| Are you tryna make it rain again? | |
| Are you tryna make it rain again? | |
| Is it rainin' just around your bend? | |
| Are you tryna make it rain again? | |
| Sittin' in a corner with his pet muskrat | |
| Tossin' his cards into an old man's hat | |
| He grins at the girls and they always grin back | |
| He bets an old waltz he could get â€~em in the sack | |
| He makes his own music from the bell of a â€~bone | |
| A waitress's falsie and a railroad phone | |
| Bobs on his knees to an old tarantella | |
| South of the border he stole it from a fella | |
| Oh, don't wait for Tom, Tom's long gone | |
| He's already moved on, don't wait for Tom | |
| I saw an ol' '55 Buick just before dawn | |
| I said, Hey, hey Tom, the sun's comin' up, you got your wipers on | |
| Are you tryna make it rain again? | |
| Are you tryna make it rain again? | |
| Is it rainin' just around your bend? | |
| Are you tryna make it rain again? | |
| His triple jointed juke fingers splay like a scarecrow | |
| He kneels down and whistles to a fallen sparrow | |
| His eyes light up when they wheel in a piano | |
| He reads a dirty joke out of an old Baptist hymnal | |
| He wears a tuxedo made of sackcloth and ashes | |
| Has a tattoo of a girl who can bat her eyelashes | |
| Down on the river he was fishin' with a sword | |
| He knocked off John the Baptist for a word from the Lord | |
| He takes his coffee with the blood of a turnip | |
| Blushes his cheeks with an Amsterdam tulip | |
| Choppin' up a rooster for a pullet surprise | |
| If the gravy don't getcha, he'll getcha with his eyes, don't wait | |
| Hey Tom, sun's comin' up, you got your wipers on | |
| Don't wait for Tom, sun's comin' up, you got your wipers on | |
| Hey Tom, oh, oh, Tom |
| He' s got the hands of a blind piano player | |
| He' s got a feel for the dark like a soothsayer | |
| He takes a little bow and tips his fedora | |
| Shouts like he' s gonna save Sodom and Gomorrah | |
| Workin' for the circus exrailroad bum | |
| Carnival barker for kingdom dot come | |
| Dusty ol' Gibson, opposable thumb | |
| Bangs out the rhythm on a fifty gallon drum | |
| Don' t wait for Tom, Tom' s long gone, he' s already moved on | |
| Don' t wait for Tom | |
| I saw an ol' ' 55 Buick just before the dawn | |
| I said, Hey, hey Tom, the sun' s comin' up, you got your wipers on | |
| Are you tryna make it rain again? | |
| Are you tryna make it rain again? | |
| Is it rainin' just around your bend? | |
| Are you tryna make it rain again? | |
| Sittin' in a corner with his pet muskrat | |
| Tossin' his cards into an old man' s hat | |
| He grins at the girls and they always grin back | |
| He bets an old waltz he could get em in the sack | |
| He makes his own music from the bell of a bone | |
| A waitress' s falsie and a railroad phone | |
| Bobs on his knees to an old tarantella | |
| South of the border he stole it from a fella | |
| Oh, don' t wait for Tom, Tom' s long gone | |
| He' s already moved on, don' t wait for Tom | |
| I saw an ol' ' 55 Buick just before dawn | |
| I said, Hey, hey Tom, the sun' s comin' up, you got your wipers on | |
| Are you tryna make it rain again? | |
| Are you tryna make it rain again? | |
| Is it rainin' just around your bend? | |
| Are you tryna make it rain again? | |
| His triple jointed juke fingers splay like a scarecrow | |
| He kneels down and whistles to a fallen sparrow | |
| His eyes light up when they wheel in a piano | |
| He reads a dirty joke out of an old Baptist hymnal | |
| He wears a tuxedo made of sackcloth and ashes | |
| Has a tattoo of a girl who can bat her eyelashes | |
| Down on the river he was fishin' with a sword | |
| He knocked off John the Baptist for a word from the Lord | |
| He takes his coffee with the blood of a turnip | |
| Blushes his cheeks with an Amsterdam tulip | |
| Choppin' up a rooster for a pullet surprise | |
| If the gravy don' t getcha, he' ll getcha with his eyes, don' t wait | |
| Hey Tom, sun' s comin' up, you got your wipers on | |
| Don' t wait for Tom, sun' s comin' up, you got your wipers on | |
| Hey Tom, oh, oh, Tom |