When my cells wont replicate themselves any more, I'll have to bribe saint Peter on the door I miss smoking lucky strike I miss that my cat eased my troubled mind I miss the weight of the world in my palm I should have broken Crispin's arms when I had the chance. And when the rage that I have saved throws me overboard, it best weight me down with cannonballs because I'm a real good swimmer I had all the awards.