(words and music by Simmons/Davis)
Out in the cold, smoking my last cigarette.
No, I can’t smoke inside no more.
Got a woman in there who’s just like the snow
and when this one is finished, oh, I gotta go.
I tried to tell her that it wasn’t
quite as bad as it seemed.
She said “I know you’re crazy
but not even vodka’s gonna give you that kind of dream.”
We’re from a land where it’ll sleet in the sun,
and you’re walking, freezing, coming up the road
looking for an angel, or maybe a deep hole,
and then a beat up pick-up comes along side,
says, “Mister are you looking for a ride?”
Oh no. Not from your kind.
Don’t need a human today.
Out in the cold, but this time I’m turning myself around
Gonna find some fucking thing left in this town
for a man like me.
Oh, I’m a liar though.
I know exactly where I’ll go.
Gonna pick up that cigarette from the ground
and pretend that it’s treasure that I have found.
I know there would be something I would want to say
but I know she wouldn’t listen anyway.
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