I still smell the gasoline
She doused the house and fled the scene
I'm sick as I have ever been she said
She took a bus and moved upstate
Got a job and changed her name
And sat around and drank for days and wept
I still smell the summer breeze
The torches soaked in kerosene
When I still thought we both believed in more
And I recall her calling me
A brittle voice, a vacancy
When I still felt complacency in love
I still smell the cigarettes
The scent stuck on her cotton dress
Her parents smoked inside of her old house
Our frames composed silhouettes
In front of her old T.V. set
And I wish I could get back to there now
Yes I wish I could get back to there now
