Ruth - Michael Cera

Coming through the filter, sweet upon my lips

The smoke mollifies the lung into which it rips

In a sunlit tavern, in a corner booth

Sucking stale popcorn, there I met dear Ruth

She’d only just lost the baby, seven months and a week

Drank a month of Seagrams, kissed me on the cheek

Never would’ve been my style

But I could spot it from a mile

That it would mean a world of good

If we got friendly for a while

O what a dear my dear girl might have been

In my nine dollar room, there was nothing on TV

She asked if she could use my toothbrush, «It don’t bother me.»

«I thank you for the company» she most solemnly said

When I woke the next morning, she had fallen from the bed

Quite a sight I have to say

Where once had blossomed a bouquet

Now all but wilting like a leaf

In the ruthless light of day

O what a dear my dear girl might have been

Ruth, sweet girl, there’s no place for you

Here in my little nine dollar room