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lyrics

So long smokes and lung-charred white ghosts who wait without want and laugh at all my jokes, who stand by my bed and number my sins, tobacco stained hands and epinephrine grins.

All that I might need is a cold, smokeless autumn and a good, clean sleep.

They give me pills because I'm such a sad old bastard: prescription amphetamines (I'm still depressed but I'm faster). I ash into ash and refill my beer to loosen and level the wreck 'twixt my ears.

All that I might need is a cold, smokeless autumn and a good, clean sleep.

So long smokes and lung-charred white ghosts who wait without want and laugh at all my jokes.

"Son, you've got to pay." That's what they'll say.
"Son, you've got to pay." Then they'll drag me away.

All that I might need is a cold, smokeless autumn and a good, clean sleep.

credits

from Bo Bedingfield & the Wydelles, released March 11, 2016
David Barbe: Bass, electric guitars
Bo Bedingfield: Electric guitar, vocals
Eric Carter: Electric guitar
Carlton Owens: Drums
Brandon Reynolds: Piano
Words by Bo Bedingfield
Music by David Barbe, Bo Bedingfield, Eric Carter, John Neff, Carlton Owens, Brandon Reynolds

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