I hold an image of the ashtray girl As the cigarette burns on my chest I wrote a poem that described her world That put my friendship to the test and late at night Whilst on all fours, she used to watch me kiss the floor What's wrong with this picture? What's wrong with this picture? Farewell the ashtray girl, forbidden snowflake Beware this troubled world, watch out for earthquakes Goodbye to open sores to broken centre floor We know we miss her, we miss her picture
Sometimes it's faded, disintegrated for fear of growing old, Sometimes it's faded, assassinated for fear of growing old
Farewell the ashtray girl Angelic fruitcake Beware this troubled world Control your intake Goodbye to open sores Goodbye and furthermore We know we miss her We miss her picture
Sometimes it's faded, disintegrated for fear of growing old, Sometimes it's faded, assassinated for fear of growing old
Hang on though we try, it's gone Hang on though we try, it's gone
Sometimes it's faded, disintegrated for fear of growing old Sometimes it's faded, assassinated for fear of growing old Can't stop growing old...