she's a pretty little thing,
the little girl we picked out together.
i do wonder though, what happens when it's all over-
when all that's left are smouldering ashes and bits of a body that won't burn up.
when the dust settles and i turn to find that you're not there.
maybe because you haven't really been at all.
Maybe you're there because i want you to be there.
I see you because i want to, not because you're actually really there.
The best part of your last and final cigarette - before you embark on complete healthy living and all that jazz- is that final drag. Right up to the filter which you know you shouldn't do and which you normally wouldn't because you'd have more to smoke anyway. But the final time is different because you're not planning on having another to smoke again.
So that last drag, with the beginnings of the filter in it, can't be that bad.
And you flick away that tiny end, aiming as far as you possibly can and shooting even harder.
I spent about a hundred bucks within a matter of hours today. That's sort of scary.
I'm just back from rehearsals, exhausted and twitchy-eyed.
Dead silent phone, ringing silence.
Ticking clock and steady drip
so i hold tight to what i know,
You're here
and i'm never alone
I trust the unseen
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