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
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...

See also:
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