Cashed out in the front room
Ashes stain his lips
Lucifer on the sofa
Staring at you
You've been counting weekends
Never getting dressed
Speaking in third person
Trying to forget

What am I gonna do
With your last cigarettes
All your old records
All your old cassettes?

You hit the corner market
Feel the winter sky
Looking through the windows
As you're passing by
Mmm-mmm, and I'm chasing every thought
And I'm walking over water
Thinking 'bout what I lost

What am I gonna do with
With your last cigarettes
All your old letters
Everybody knows
That I'm stuck with all your pictures
A box of cigarettes
All your old records
All your old cassettes

Now you're cruising up Lavaca
Against the traffic lights
Gonna walk all evening, yeah
There's no one out tonight

Now you're thinking about Dale Watson
Thinking about turquoise
All along West Avenue
While those black birds make their noise

Tell me truth later
And just lie tonight
For now, I need peace
And nothing feels right
And I'm stuck with all your pictures
A box of cigarettes
All your old records
Yes, and all your old cassettes

Ah-ah
Ah-ah
Ah-ah
Ah-ah
Ah-mmm
Ah-ah
Ah, ah-ah

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): Alex Fischel, John Daniel