Sat at the side of the pool at one of your houses
With wet white trousers on
And worlds collide as the evening continues, the dignity fucks off
Her brother's gone off to the strippers to make up for all the lost time
She could have been one of the bitches but she's actually alright

Cigarette smoker, I'm sorry
But we're all unsure how much you've had
But we think that you ought to maybe not have anymore

A country home, even if we really tried
Would it cease to surprise us now
And I bet your dad would like to give us all a slap
When are your parents back do ya know?

Well, I never came from no ghetto
But it wasn't nowhere near here
Well, spoken girls and stilettos
Aren't something to fear

Cigarette smoker, I'm sorry
But we're all unsure how much you've had
But we think that you ought to maybe not have anymore

Cigarette smoker, I'm sorry
But we're all unsure how much you've had
But we think that you ought to maybe not have anymore

Cigarette smoker, cigarette smoke doesn't hide
As well as you think
And you think that it ought to act as the perfect disguise

Copyright: Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Writer(s): Alex Turner