I hold an image of the ashtray girl. Of cigarette burns on my chest. I wrote a poem that described her world. And put our friendship to the test. And late at night whilst on all fours. She used to watch me kiss the floor. What's wrong with this picture?. What's wrong with this picture?. Farewell the ashtray girl. Forbidden snowflake. Beware this troubled world. Watch out for earthquakes. Goodbye to open sores. To broken semaphore. You know we miss her. We miss her picture. Sometimes it's faded. (We) Disintegrate it. For fear of growing old. Sometimes it's fated. (We) Assassinate it. For fear of growing old. Farewell the ashtray girl. Angelic fruitcake. Beware this troubled world. Control your intake. Goodbye to open sores. Goodbye and furthermore. You know we miss her. We miss her picture. Sometimes it's faded. (We) Disintegrate it. For fear of growing old. Sometimes it's fated. (We) Assassinate it. For fear of growing old. Hang on. Though we try. It's gone. Hang on. Though we try. It's gone. Sometimes it's faded. (We) Disintegrate it. For fear of growing old. Sometimes it's faded. (We) Assassinate it. For fear of growing old. Can't stop growing old (x5)