G C G C Coming through the filter, sweet upon my lipsAm Em Am Em The smoke mollifies the lung into which it ripsG C G Em C In a sunlit tavern, in a corner boothAm Em Am Em Sucking stale popcorn, there i met dear ruthC G C Em Am She'd only just lost the baby, seven months and a weekEm Am Em Drank a month of seagrams, kissed me on the cheekF D7 Am Never would've been my styleF D7 Am But i could spot it from a mileF D7 Am That it would mean a world of goodF D7 Am If we got friendly for a whileAm G Oh, what a dearC G My dear girl might have been( Em G F G C Em G )C In my nine dollar roomG C There was nothing on tvAm Em She asked if she could use my toothbrushAm Em "it don't bother me"G C G C "i thank you for the company," she most solemnly saidAm Em When i woke the next morningAm Em She had fallen from the bedF D7 Am Quite a sight, i have to sayF D7 Am D7 Where once had blossomed a bouquetF Am D7 Now all but wilting like a leafF D7 In the ruthless light of dayC G Oh, what a dearC G My dear girl might have been Ruth, sweet girlF C There's no place for youC C Here in my little nine dollar room
Ruth
Michael Cera
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Tom: