| It’s clear to him and everyone like him
|
| Where the sidewalks turn
|
| When he needs to leave
|
| Buy a pack of smokes
|
| And walk down the Ohio
|
| They don’t smoke the first one last
|
| They give the last one away
|
| Give it all away
|
| It’s clear to him and everyone like him
|
| Giving the gift is impossible
|
| Forget it
|
| Leave it alone and move towards the sidewalks
|
| Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale
|
| Inhale and exhale and the smoke comes through your teeth
|
| It resembles the smoke stacks and incinerators
|
| Where they stand, where they grow, where they breathe
|
| He breathes on by the highway, enchanted by the car lots
|
| He’ll keep his distance, he’ll do without
|
| Stating that certain things are impossible
|
| He’ll do without
|
| Uneffected and unaffected
|
| This man will be free from pain
|
| Free from guilt
|
| Free from innocence
|
| Free from emotion
|
| Free from integrity
|
| Free from any sort of
|
| Love or anger
|
| He’ll never be moved
|
| All he’s in it for is the work
|
| And all he ever does is work
|
| He’s not here to think about it
|
| And there’s no question
|
| Leave him alone and the work will get done
|
| Inhale
|
| Exhale
|
| Inhale
|
| Exhale
|
| Inhale
|
| Exhale
|
| Inhale
|
| Exhale
|
| Inhale
|
| Exhale |