With the taste of cheap
Cigars on my lips
I inhale and exhale
The poison it gives
I don't even like cigarette smoke
But when it comes to morals
These days, baby I’m broke
And maybe I just feel like
The smoke in my lungs
Is what I am destined to become
Desolate ash and waste
Maybe that’s why I poetically
Like the taste
If smoke could solidify
Into the shapes that it filled
I would have smoky lung shapes
On my floor
And smoky heart shapes
Nailed to my door
Warning everyone not to come in
And to my chagrin
Those who do knock
Seem to fade away
To grey
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