Lyrics

I was cleaning out the ashtrays I was easily impressed Understanding Matthew's cigarettes Eating up the garbage All the pills and all the glamour of it all Swallowed it all Matthew's in the garden sowing seeds of discontent And he's working for that magazine again I'm out in the world just trying to meet my payments girl And this is not 1957 So why do you want to walk like that? You keep you hands out of my pockets And keep your head out of my hat So you're pissed again on mystique I suppose you'll never learn And you're looking old my little angry young man Do you see that I'm not selling anything What you need Least of all what you're looking for I believe in Joycie, you're still trying to dig up Jack Look at you with your razor in your pockеt Well, what do you plan to do with that? You with your morbid fascinations Get your head out of my hat I bеlieve in Joycie, Borsalino, baby, you're still trying to dig up Jack You with your razor in your pocket Well, what do you plan to do with that? You with your morbid fascinations Get your head out of my hat No, this is not 1957 So why do you want to walk like that? You with your morbid fascinations Keep your head out of my hat