Smoke bummer's union boss, hundredaire
Windowless houses but I don't live there
Everyone looks happy so why would I care
I got the skin, you got the hair
You and I have different regrets
Mine exotic vintages i've not tasted yet
Scars on your long brown neck
Blood stained teeth they keep your mouth in check
But I can't take you with me...
Some things were never meant to be
All the well-heeled ladies, they might see
So I can't take you with me
Maybe I might slum my way through you
Makes for stories I can't write but surely I can use
Not that I might not fall hard too
But I will lay back in my silken sheets when we are through
I go back to my domestic bliss
You go back to your bombed out aimlessness
Did I see you outside the union mess
Holding court like there was nothing here to miss...