A malevolent glimmer in your eyes accents
That mischievous smirk you carry around,
Just like the half-dead cigarette between your fingers.
Smoke trails off in a gray hue every time you take a puff,
Impinging upon my innocent lungs.
They say you can die from secondhand smoke.

Boy you're a killer and it's such a thrill.
But your heart's a heart worth fighting for,
Forget about self-defense.