Smelling Cigarettes

Very much vodka and too much tequila: those are the ways I learned to deal.

Across against the light and the sleet scalds my sight,

stunned I stayed put and a billboard truck runs over my foot.

So things are really hopping; and my unemployment's stopping;

and my kitty cat's copping; and I need to forget.

So I go to the window and smell a cigarette.

Now I'm in the clutches of my crutches:

I'm laid up, and I sip from my cup, and I look outside.

And I see Christopher Hyde-who just got divorced,

and there's a restraining order enforced-going in his ex-wife's garage.

I'm just drunk enough to open the window, yell out gruff:

"Don't you key that brand-new Camry".

And he gave me the cursor, "Damn," returning to the spot he was,

"Mind your own business you!"

And I wag my finger, "You're not doing what you're supposed to do".

And then he's coming toward me, and I took a swig of my tequila

'cause it made me feel a little nervous as he started across against the light:

but he didn't look to his right as he didn't stay put.

And a billboard truck came and ran over his foot.

And the cops responding called out to me,

"Hey is this your cat?" "Yeah, but sometimes it forgets.

Ah, wait a minute.

I gonna come out there and smell a couple a cigarettes."

Don't you hurry-worry with me…