Invitation to the Blues          Tom Waits

Tabbed for guitar (originally piano) by
Dexter N Muir, |)exy@ihug.co.nz

Intro: (instrumental, repeat to accompany Verse 1)

e---|-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------|
B---|-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------|
G---|-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------|
D---|---------0---|-0-----------|---------0---|-0-----------|---------0---|-0-----------|
A---|-----3-----3-|-----3-----3-|-----3-----3-|-----------3-|-----3-----3-|-----3-----3-|
E-0-|-5-----------|-------------|-4-----------|-------------|-3-----------|-------------|
V1:   up...                       apron...                    yest..

                                                          Dm
e-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------|-----1-------|-1-----------|
B-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------|-----3-------|-3-----------|
G-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------|-----3-------|-2-----------|
D---------0---|-0-----------|---------0---|-0-----------|-0---------0-|-------------|
A-----3-----3-|-----------3-|-----3-----3-|-----------3-|-------------|-------------|
E-2-----------|-------------|-1-----------|-------------|-------------|-----------0-|
  tickets...                  moving...                   conk...

 Am            Em            Am            Em7
e-------------|-------------|-------------|-------------|
B-----1-------|-------------|-----1-------|-------3-----|
G-----2-------|-----1-------|-----2-------|-------1-----|
D-----2-------|-----2-------|-----2-------|-------2-----|
A-0---------0-|-----2-------|-0---------0-|-------2-----|
E-------------|-0---------0-|-------------|-0-----------|
  just...                     blues.


        Well she's up against the register with an apron and a spatula
        With yesterday's deliveries, and the tickets for the bachelors.
                                          Dm
        She's a moving violation from her conk right down to her shoes,
                 Am           E            Am
        But it's just an invitation to the blues

                   Dm                            G7
        And you're feeling just like Cagney, she looks like Rita Hayworth
               C                            C7
        At the counter of the Schwab's drug store.
                   Dm                              G7
        You wonder if she might be single, she's a loner, likes to mingle.
        C                            E7
        Got to be patient and try to pick up a clue.



        She says "Howyougonnalikem, over easy, fried or scrambled?"
        Anyway's the only way, be careful not to gamble
        On a guy with a suitcase and a ticket gettin out of here.
        It's a tired bus station and an old pair of shoes,
        But it ain't nothing but an invitation to the blues

                Dm...
        But you can't take your eyes off her, get another cup of java
        And it's just the way she pours it for you, joking with the customers,
        And it's "Mercy, Mr. Percy, there ain't nothin back in Jersey
        But a broken-down jalopy of a man I left behind,
              Am                             Dm
        And a dream that I was chasin, and a battle with the booze,
                Am        E            Am        Em7
         And an open invitation to the blues."

                  Dm...
        But she's had a sugar daddy, and a candy-apple Caddy
        And a bank account and everything - accustomed to the finer things.
        He probably left her for a socialite, and he didn't love her, 'cept at night,
        And then he's drunk, and never even told her that he cared.
                Am...
        So they took the registration, and the car-keys and her shoes,
        And left her with an invitation to the blues.

                         Dm...
        'Cause there's a Continental Trailways leaving, local bus tonight, good evening 
        You can have my seat, I'm stickin round here for a while.
        Get me a room at the Squire, the filling station's hiring.
        I can eat here every night, what the hell have I got to lose?
              Am...
        Got a crazy sensation, go or stay and I've got to choose,
        And I'll accept your invitation to the blues.