No Cigarettes - Withered Hand

Think me and you could maybe use a lost weekend

I’ve been losing all my friends

I wave another empty bottle in your face

Like I’m hitting it hard

But it’s just pretend

'Cause you know I’m not

I wouldn’t know where to start

I’ve been there before

I went and got lost

Always the back end of this pantomime horse

All we seem to do these days is wave our arms and yell

Other people are hell

And what’s that song you’re singing, «Everybody Hurts»?

And everybody lies

Don’t want to remember, too many regrets

And no cigarettes

Cause I’m not a smoker

But I said I was

And the elevator stuck between the floors

Is getting to me

Don’t let him forsake you

Wrack him up and knock him down again

You’re changing direction

I won’t know where I was

The back end of the pantomime horse

Is getting to me

Odelay

Maestro, a drum roll please

This is the golden age

Staring down the corners of the room

Another nowhere town

When everything I sing is in a minor key

I have to write it down

Or I won’t remember

Then I’ll get it wrong

This isn’t the song, I’m thinking

I’m not the singer

That I thought I was

In the solitude before the applause

Is getting to me

Odelay

Maestro a drum roll please

This is the golden age