Cannonball Days - Ryan Adams

What’s come to stay from your cannonball days

But a house and some clothes on the line?

You fired away with your drunken brigade

In the streets of New York as a child

A woman so fine, yeah, fine as a girl

Slow like an Italian wine

Her hair all a mess and her dress all disheveled

But all of your roses have died

Better luck in the next life

'Cause your gonna need it, dear

Loved you back then but I couldn’t say when

All of your roses have died

All of your roses have died

I tasted your lips, put my hands on your hips

Danced in apartment A-9

Your cats on the sill and my head to your breast

Feeding your rhythms divine

A west Jersey queen with a rattle machine

Tasted the salt through your skin

Loved you back then but I couldn’t say when

All of your roses have died

Better luck in the next life

Go give them some hell and goodbye

Loved you back then but I couldn’t say when

All of your roses have died

All of your roses have died

A bask in the heat down on Christopher Street

Bought you a rose from a bum

Left you a note that I stuffed in your coat

You laughed and you said it was dumb

You broke like a stem and I guess you’re with him

I’m sure that he treats you just fine

So bottoms up, cheers, baby, here’s to your tears

All of your roses have died

Better luck in the next life

I’ll miss you but go on, goodbye

I feel like a straight from his cannonball days

When all of your roses were mine

When all of your roses were mine