I, cigarette fingers
puff and poke
puff and poking the smoke
touches the ground


You, your lungs and your wrists
they throb like trains
choo choo choo
it's a prison of sound


of sound


She, by my chinny chin chin [buying chilly chin-chin?]
Eee-oh Eee-oh
Like a zippo smokes the way
hope, around


You, your lungs and your wrists
they throb like trains
choo choo choo
It's a prison of sound


a prison of sound


She, by the hair of my chinny chin chin
Eee-oh Eee-oh Eee-oh Eee-oh
Like a zippo smokes the way
hope, around


You, your lungs and your wrists
they throb like trains
choo choo choo
it's a prison of sound


I poke around...