Song Description

This song describes the life of a writer, considering all the poisons in is life from cigarettes, to work. The narrator wonders why he is attracted to them.

Lyrics

I wake up in the morning
And light myself my first cigarette
The oxygen give tar and air
A taste that I rarely regret

My body is a burnt down house
that the banks knows better than to pay me for
I've given up on gaining clout
I'm throwing in the towel, closing open doors

I slam off my alarm clock
Guaranteeing I'll be late for work
My boss don't even know my name
but he knows who's missing when the cogs don't turn

Lately I just turn in bed
Because the life I'm leading is for petty cash
I'd quit my job and sleep instead
but I'm exchanging slumber for the bed I have

It's not like I'm really suffering
I make my living and have a place to rest
I've even got a girl that holds me with her eyes closed tightly
while our lips are pressed

I hope at the end of time I will see more clearly all the things I have
But still the sugar coated poison apples are familiar misery to which I grasp