The cigarette case was silver and worn The clasp went soft, it didn't work, no more Well, the lid was bent The smoke was spent Come back again I'm gone These are the things of a painted past Details prevail When the paint don't last A soft summer breeze headed in the eaves Of an old pine house down on Ashland Street Where the crickets speak And wicker creaks Come back again I'm gone These are the things of a painted past Details prevail When the paint don't last And the paint don't last Mary Kate was straight about one thing The lines of our time can be simple and certain Mary Kate was straight about one thing Grasp for the past when the future's uncertain Come back again I'm gone