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Michael Cera
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Ruth
Coming through the filter, sweet upon my lips
the smoke mollifies the lung into which it rips
In a sunlit tavern, in a corner booth
sucking stale popcorn, there I met dear Ruth
She'd only just lost the baby, seven months and a week
Drank a month of Seagrams, kissed me on the cheek
Never would've been my style
But I could spot it from a mile
That it would mean a world of good
If we got friendly for a while
O what a dear my dear girl might have been
In my nine dollar room, there was nothing on TV
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She asked if she could use my toothbrush, 'It don't bother me.'
'I thank you for the company' she most solemnly said
When I woke the next morning, she had fallen from the bed
Quite a sight I have to say
Where once had blossomed a bouquet
Now all but wilting like a leaf
In the ruthless light of day
O what a dear my dear girl might have been
Ruth, sweet girl, there's no place for you
here in my little nine dollar room
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