I hold an image of the ashtray girl, of cigarette burns on my chest
I wrote a poem that described her world and put our 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 semaphore
You know we miss her. We miss her picture
Sometimes it's fated; disintegrated. For fear of growing old
Sometimes it's fated; a**a**inated. 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
You know we miss her. We miss her picture
Sometimes it's fated; disintegrated. For fear of growing old
Sometimes it's fated; a**a**inated. For fear of growing old
Hang on. Though we try, it's gone
Hang on. Though we try, it's gone
Sometimes it's fated; disintegrated. For fear of growing old
Sometimes it's fated; a**a**inated. For fear of growing old
I can't stop growing old. I can't stop growing old
I can't stop growing old. I can't stop growing old
I can't stop growing old