Half-smoked, hand rolled cigarette stick,
my body says I need that fix.
Just as the filter tip hits my lip,
the lighter flicks.

The flame ignites, the paper burns,
smoke's drawn in by sinful years,
inside the lungs it twists and turns,
unveiling a message oh so stern.

A moment's pass and I'm down to the ****
as Salvation's door is quietly shut,
a dizzy feeling erupts in the gut
and I find myself stuck in the same old rut.