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• Artiste: Michael Cera
• Titre: Ruth
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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 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