Well I left my sweater in Brooklyn
Like I left my flannel in Shushan
And I was drinking a Pabst Blue Ribbon
Like a jetty down at the old station
Door’s open and I’m not leaving
The cigarette smoke I’m breathing
Door’s open and I’m not leaving
There’s a fire but I’m still freezing
I could take the midtown bus
But I’d rather my pickup truck
An old white custom deluxe
The only one I can trust
And it’s cold
I’m not leaving
And it’s cold
I’m not leaving
Door’s open and I’m not leaving
The cigarette smoke I’m breathing
Door’s open and I’m not leaving
There’s a fire but I’m still freezing
And it’s cold
I’m not leaving
And it’s cold
I’m not leaving
And it’s cold
I’m not leaving
And it’s cold
I’m not leaving
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