I: cigarette fingers
Puff and poke, puff and poke
And the smoke it touches the ground
You: your lungs in your wrists
They throb like trains
Choo choo choo choo
It's a prison of sound
See by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin
Hee-haw! Hee-haw! Hee-haw!
I can't see for smoke
So I poke around
I poke around
Writer(s): Nicholas Edward Cave
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