Cigarettes, Boys, And Movies - Two Inch Astronaut

Speed of spit a little slower

That’s the spot below the fulcrum

Where the wrist will prop me up

Pounds of rocks inside the pockets

Silverware stuck in the sockets

Light me up and make a firebomb

Cigarettes, and boys and movies

No longer mean nothin' to me

When did we get so old?

Cuts both ways across

So sell it back at cost

And wonder your mother would she cry

If she knew what you gave, gave, gave up?

Shuck and jive right in the face of everyone who’s got a case of

Something that could hurt you too

Disrepair and demolition

Start at home inside the crawlspace

Where they learned to be that way

Cuts both ways across

So sell it back at cost

And wonder your mother would she cry

If she knew what you gave, gave, gave up?

Now I can feel the life slip

Now I can feel the life slip

Out of me

With repetition

Cigarettes, boys, and movies

No longer mean nothin' to me

Tell me when we got so old