Newspapers lying by the door. I don't miss you anymore. I took the elevator down from the thirteenth floor. And you ain't thinking about me. . I read a paper, I played the old Strats.
Well the truth. Well it hurts to say. I'm gonna pack up my bags and I'm gonna go away. I'm gonna split, I can't stand it. I'm gonna give it up and quit and ain't never coming back.