Cigarette Machine

Stumbling past your house baby at the break of the day I thought I saw your silhouette dancing cross the shade and I went down to the mission I called and called your name till an angel with a face like yours came down and let me in

I thought I saw your reflection in a cigarette machine in a bottle in the gutter in a window on the street in a storefront in a picture on an old broken TV I swear it was you staring back at me

I heard soldier's voices by the city gate there were junkies lying on the ground they made me look away I spilled you on a mirror I chopped you into lines over some old kitchen sink I swore I'd let you die

I thought I saw your reflection in a cigarette machine in a bottle in the gutter in a window on the street in a storefront in a picture on an old broken TV I swear it was you staring back at me

Old radios and broken mirrors dog-eared things I read worn out movie stars in faded limousines I battled through my own charades of coffee cups and clowns I can't keep up with parades I keep falling down

I thought I saw your reflection in a cigarette machine in a bottle in the gutter in a window on the street in a storefront in a picture on an old broken TV I swear it was you staring back at me in a storefront in a picture on an old broken TV I swear it was you staring back at me