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Broughton-Mason-Slamer |
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The sheets are untidy, it's twelve o'clock and the bed's unmade I |
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scratch my face 'cause I forgot to shave. I hide from the milkman when |
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his feet reach my step; thank God for my girlfriend, she left her |
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cigarettes. |
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Ooh . . . take another drag to bring you down |
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Ooh . . . just another pack to take you down |
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(Chorus) |
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Cigarettes that you leave unlit |
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Just a trace of lipstick on a filter tip |
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Cigarettes that you leave unlit, |
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You'd better smoke it, Before you choke on it. |
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Cigarettes that you leave unlit |
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Just a trace of lipstick on a filter tip |
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Cigarettes that you leave unlit, |
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You'd better smoke it, Before you choke on it. |
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Another morning it's hard to hold my spirit up |
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As if the thought of you would really bring me luck |
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The sun is shining like the egg upon my face |
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I may have lost you, but I got your cigarettes |
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Ooh . . . take another drag to bring you down |
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Ooh . . . just another pack to take you down. |
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(Chorus) |
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Cigarettes that you leave unlit |
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Just a trace of lipstick on a filter tip |
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Cigarettes that you leave unlit, |
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You'd better smoke it, Before you choke on it. |
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Cigarettes that you leave unlit |
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Just a trace of lipstick on a filter tip |
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Cigarettes that you leave unlit, |
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You'd better smoke it, Before you choke on it. |
