A sensation to which nothing can compare,
Rebel like behaviour lightens life up like a flare.
Little things which bring us solace during any crisis,
Little things that ruin us, these are all of our vices.

At the end a cigarette burns my finger tips,
And this is when my heart truly skips.
My escape is over, feels as though in a trice,
Discomforting to think we fell in love with our vice.