With some help from my cigars, little dancers dressed in swirling black smoke, I'll keep the words from leaving my mouth. I'll say something about my day instead. It's okay, I'll just pretend. With the shadow from the sun visor covering my eyes as they well, I'll tell you about my lunch plans. Small talk, right? I can be good at this, with you. My ears, little zombies searching for a pulse, I'll ask you how your day went. I'll pounce on a laugh, I'll bite at a smile. This is all I have. It's okay, I'll just pretend.