I never knew tonight Was the last cigarette in the pack I never learned which way your hands went and why Or if your car would have made it to D.C without dying But I remember How cold your hands were And how it was raining And how you looked like an actress caught in a simulated rainstorm and the fan would blow your hair and the water buckets poured And Johnny offscreen Banging aluminum sheets together for thunder a cigarette hangs from his lips a flashbulb for some lightning Your umbrella opens up beneath your make up running My chest began to squeeze Between your wet hair falling I couldn't hold it back any longer