I was cleaning out the ashtrays
I was easily impressed
Understanding Matthew's cigarettes
I was eating all his glamour
His pills and his garbage
You might say that I swallowed it all
Matt's out in the garden
Sowing seeds of discontent
And he's working for that magazine again
Me, I'm out in the world
Tring to meet my payments girl
He's back in the closet where it's '57
When you call my name
It's the witching hour, I know
Now I'm walking down 4th street
You pass me by, you don't even speak
And it looks just like a spit in the eye
Well sister, I'm out in the world
Yes, I meet my payments girl
You're back in the closet where it's '57
When you call my name
It's the witching hour, I know