All of my friends
have fallen
in love
with their
boredom
But
I'm still lusting,
helplessly
over my
mortality

Are we alive?
Who's to say that we are not dead,
that there maybe life in our coming death.
What life is on going
never to end.
So in keeping track of the years of our lives
are we really just waiting to live?

i'm in love
with the way
you flip a
lucky cigarette
every time
you open a
fresh pack,
cause i know
you'll always
smoke it last
and i count
each one
as you
put them out

i want to be
your twentieth
cigarette,

i want you
to shake
when you see me
standing
all alone
at the tip
of your fingers,
i want you to
rush to inhale me
but force yourself
to savor me
cause i'm the only one,
after i'm gone
you have no one

i'm in love
with the way
you rush through
nineteen, sorry
cigarettes
just to
smoke
the twentieth
twenty
separate
times,

oh you take
a drag
and let it linger
on the tip
of your tongue,
you put it out,
brush it off,
tuck it away,
keep it safe,
you know you'll
want it again

like you
can't get
enough
of number
twenty,

and i know
in the back
of my head
that it isn't
because
it's lucky,
it's just because
it's all that's
left

but i wanna
be your number twenty

even when there

aren't

nineteen

before me

i want to be
the one you
pick out
of the crowd
just to flip
my world
upside down
and call
me
special

and i want you
to hurry through
the rest
to make it
back
to me