3:07 What can be said of the cigarettes smoked A prop for a joke or a mark on the clock If I stopped would the bus ever come Would the dawn ever kiss me forgivingly knowing what’s done Would the drivel make scribble, make sense and then song Would the woodbines denied black another man’s lungs Perverse as it may sound I sometimes believe The tip to my lips just reminds me to breathe What can be said of the whiskey and wine Random abandon or ballast for joy That was scuppered with trust Little more than a boy And besides I’m in excellent company I’m reaching the age when decisions are made on the life and the liver And Im sure, last ditch that Ill ask for more time But Mother forgive me I still want a bottle of good Irish whiskey And a bundle of smokes in my grave
Posted on: Sun, 23 Nov 2014 10:34:42 +0000