On the escape from Paddington station
Up the ***** to Praed Street
I enter the daily wall of smoke
Rushing into my lungs
Choking a little life out of me
Until I emerge the other side
And run for my bus

Approaching the office, dragging my feet
The smart revolving doors
Lined by little puffs of smoke
Strategy defined on *** packets
Secret discussions I'll never know
My expensive perfume replaced with a new one
As I enter the lift

It's safe in the pub, if a little chilly
The air is clear, despite the odour of stale beer
But it's warm outside, where the smokers sit
And I'm jealous of their fun
I watch them laughing, sunglasses on
I too, could soak up the sun
But I think I'll stay in here