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