Withered Hand
No Cigarettes
Think me and you could maybe use a lost weekendI've been losing all my friendsI wave another empty bottle in your face,Like I'm hitting it hardBut it's just pretend'cos you know I'm notI wouldn't know where to startI've been there beforeI went and got lost,Always the back end of this pantomime horseAll we seem to do these days is wave our arms and yellOther people are hellAnd what's that song you're singing, everybody hurts?And everybody lies,Don't wanna remember, too many regretsAnd no cigarettes'cos I'm not a smoker,But I said I wasAnd the elevator stuck between the floorsIs getting to meDon't let him forsake youWrack him up and knock him down againYou're changing directionI won't know where I wasThe back end of the pantomime horseLetras de cancionesIs getting to meMaestro, a drum roll pleaseThis is the golden ageStaring down the corners of the roomAnother nowhere townWhen everything I sing is in a minor keyI have to write it down,Or I won't rememberThen I'll get it wrongThis isn't the song, I'm thinkingI'm not the singerThat I thought I wasIn the solitude before the applauseIs getting to me Maestro a drum roll pleaseThis is the golden age
From Letras Mania