Sweet cigarette,
Oh, Calm me down.
With your pollution and disease,
You'll drag me down.
Smoke will still bellow from my mouth,
As I'm laid down underground.
Smoke festering in my lungs,
Reminds me to breathe in and back out.

Sitting at a bench outside, rolling up,
My memory hands work to their mechanical talk.
The world around is a drone - like me,
An incomplete tone, You see.
I feel like I'm continuously falling back,
Seeing, feeling nothing but alone,
Then there's the black.