Dead Against Smoking

You sleep like a kid with one hand stuck fast to the side of your face Your backside in the air, mouth half-open, but still filled with grace And you seem so happy as your skin turns the colour of a violet-golden sky And it cuts me up when we fight and go to bed facing opposite sides You're like gasoline You're like the willow tree You're like a split-screen But you're the green in me And you smoke when you're hurt or bored or out with friends, but I don't mind Who cares if the big "C" comes? We're young, we're having some lovely times You frown as the clouds bring you down, drop to your knees and scream, "Oh, my God!" But you really shouldn't bother, there's bigger things going on You little sod, you little sod You're like gasoline You're like the willow tree You're like a split-screen But you're the green in me You're like gasoline You're like the willow tree You're like a split-screen But you're the green in me