The French Inhaler

Written by Warren Zevon 1973 Warner-Tamerlane Publishing Corp./Darkroom Music BMI How're you going to make your way in the world When you weren't cut out for working When your fingers are slender and frail How're you going to get around In this sleazy bedroom town If you don't put yourself up for sale Where will you go with your scarves and your miracles Who's gonna know who you are Drugs and wine and flattering light You must try it again till you get it right Maybe you'll end up with someone different every night All these people with no home to go home to They'd all like to spend the night with you Maybe I would, too But tell me How're you going to make your way in the world, woman When you weren't cut out for working And you just can't concentrate And you always show up late You said you were an actress Yes, I believe you are I thought you'd be a star So I drank up all the money Yes, I drank up all the money With these phonies in this Hollywood bar These friends of mine in this Hollywood bar Loneliness and frustration We both came down with an acute case And when the lights came up at two I caught a glimpse of you And your face looked like something Death brought with him in his suitcase Your pretty face It looked so wasted Another pretty face Devastated The French Inhaler He stamped and mailed her "So long, Norman" She said, "So long, Norman." © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc