Cigarette Smoke

I knew a girl made of cigarette smoke,

she wore winter around her like a warm overcoat.

And she'd write, and she'd smile,

and she'd write, and she'd laugh,

and the smoke was her own sense of peace.

Saved her lucky for last and exhaled a wish,

that wisped and whispered, luminous,

it curled, quiet against the night sky, and lingered.

She says, "Oh, baby breathe, baby please won't you breathe for me?

I am losing you slowly, but I'm yours to keep..."

Sh ewould fumble for her lighter and light herself up,

nurse her vice between fingers that never knew lust.

Still she'd write, time to time,

she would manage a smile,

while her hope floats away in the breeze.

She knew her luck couldn't last, still, she exhaled a wish

that wisped and whispered, luminous,

it curled, quiet against the night sky,

and still lingers.

She says, "Oh, baby breathe, baby please won't you breathe for me?

I am losing you slowly, but I'm yours to keep..."

She says, "Oh, baby breathe, baby please won't you breathe for me?

I am feeling so faithless, and so free, yeah, so free."