"Cancer patient, no smoking", doctor said.
No, he couldn't, white smoke made black lungs and now the patient's dead.

Life a year before, he smiles walking down the streets, hey what's up folks,
Cigarette in his mouth, he pulls in and you hear him cough and chokes.
Laughing loud telling stories and having jokes,
And he knows and realized the poke of damage the white smoke has on his throat.
That has him tied down like a stringed goat.

Up and down, exhausted real quick, out of breath and his lips dry on the tips,
But he never listened or took the tip, to stop smoking, "Dude you got to quit."
Exhale, the cancer patient after he just sighs, laughs, spits and lick his lips,
Telling the guy "No bro smoking is the ****."

Later down that year, close to that point where he no longer exists,
Still with the pack in his pocket and a cigarette between his finger tips,
Without the doubt of death and without the knowledge, he was at risk.
Regardless, he awoke every day taking it in vain.
Insane, like taking propane, literal high grade,

Laying on a bed of affliction in pain, head shot to the brain,
Serious temple hurting, and a rocking migraine that made him realize that,
He will no longer be alive, not anymore.
White smoke wiped him out of existence, no sunlight and long walks ever again.

"Cancer patient, no smoking", doctor said.
No, he couldn't, white smoke made black lungs and now the patient's dead.