Smoke, rising off the cold hard desolate concrete,

Damp, rising through my tattered canvas shoes,

Bums, looking more and more like me each day

Thumbs, ridden with the dark black sludge of tar.

Get you through the day with the help of a close network of friends.

GONE. Slipping further from me now with every day.

Smiths, coursing through my veins and slowing me,

With every second on the....

Takes you far away from clarity

But it’s good [GOOD, it’s good, it’s good]

good ‘cos I can’t bare the stilling silence.

And it’s good, [its good] good because now I don’t have to jump in front...

Get you through the day with the help of a close network of buddies, [my buddies but they’re]

Gone, gone, they’re slipping further from me every day.

And I, don’t like, the pain!

No I, don’t like, the pain.

[but who does?....]