| Stop trying to pretend that you are going to stop
|
| You’re either a smoker or you’re not
|
| You will keep on smoking for the rest of your life
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| And then you’ll get cancer and then you’ll die
|
| I can stop whenever I please and anyway
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| I’m immune to emphysema and heart disease
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| My diary says tomorrow is the day I quit
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| And I’m going to stick with that
|
| I’ll work my way down to the end of this pack
|
| And then I’m leaving this place and I’m never coming back again
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| Little itches need no stitches but they bury you
|
| If you keep on scratching you’ll go right through
|
| Whiskey for the amputee is just the thing to ease the sting
|
| I’ll work my way down to the end of this pack
|
| And then I’m leaving this place and I’m never coming back again
|
| I’ve got a list of things to get round to
|
| I’ve got a list of all the things I shouldn’t do
|
| I know it by heart
|
| I’ve got the damn thing in my pocket
|
| But despite myself it’s the middle of the night and I am round at your house
|
| again
|
| Trying to pretend that I am going to stop
|
| I’m either a smoker or I’m not
|
| You will keep on smoking for the rest of my life
|
| And don’t I know it:
|
| My favourite fatal weakness
|
| I’ll work my way down to the end of this pack
|
| And then I’m leaving this place and I’m never coming back again
|
| I’ll work my way down to the end of this pack
|
| And then I’m leaving this place and I’m never coming back
|
| I’ll see you around, somewhere in town
|
| Or next time I’m down, probably right here |