39 Lyrics

39 takes me where I need to be, between
cartons of cigarettes and gallons of gasoline

Riding the line to the downtown, allows us small boys
to feel so grown up with fistfuls of adult stuff

In the coffee shop, you tore the filter off your cigarette
Tobacco set to flame, what's your name? What is your name?

Sip dose of caffeine, Charles Bukowski could not care less
Express disinterest in this drawn out process of age

The table beneath your book's disabled, it needs a lift
New York Times beneath the leg, it's now stable for the day