Sit down and fire away'
I know it's tricky when you're feeling low'
When you feel like your flavour
Has gone the way of a pre-shelled pistachio...
I know you're weighed down
You're fed up with your heavy
Your boots
laced with melancholy notion's all you own...
I do - like sugar -
Tend toward the brittle and sticky when spun
and I know my demeanor
has gone the way of a photo left out in the sun...
so I try to keep myself in lillies and flax seeds...
oh what a folly- fooling just yourself...
Sit down and smoke away'
I wouldn't knock it till you're in them shoes
oh watch as ours subtlety blows away
as a blusher gives way to a bruise...
But seemly' we'd freely make a trade-off
a dry rot to take the weight off
Swap the boots for red shoes