It's been 3 months since you've had a cigarette and you're doing just fine. The Marines whipped you into shape and you've lost ten pounds since i last saw you. Your muscles have been trained to be lethal and i think i would let you **** me if you had the chance. But you've kicked the habit and now your body no longer craves the daily dose of nicotine it so desired for a year. I never wanted to be your cigarette, you only used me when you were bored and stomped on me to finish me off when your lips couldn't. I only wanted to be your drugs, let you die for me. But it seems you've kicked that habit too. Now I'm not sure where i belong because your lungs seem so much stronger without me.