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...