| In a black and far off corner of my mind |
| There’s a box of something I can’t quite define |
| It houses circus freaks, temptation and bad trips |
| In an isolated corner of the box |
| There’s a trap door covered up with dirt and rocks |
| It opens to the stairs that lead down to the crypt |
| Do you know where you’re going when you’ve taken your last step |
| Do you know what you get? |
| Cigarette |
| On a dark and lonely road in my hometown |
| Stands a house that long ago should’ve been torn down |
| It reeks of love gone sour, suspicion and bad debt |
| On a weather beaten transom in the house |
| Walks a friend of mine that I call the old king mouse |
| He dances in the moonlight and sleeps out on the steps |
| Do you know where you’re going when you’ve taken your last breath? |
| Do you know what you get? |
| Do you know where you’re going when they’ve paid their last regrets? |
| Do you know what you get? |
| Cigarette |
| In a black and far off corner of my mind |
| There’s a box of something I can’t quite define |
| It houses circus freaks, temptation and the Fayette County Fair |
| And it reeks of love gone sour, suspicion and big hair |
| Do you know where you’re going when you’ve taken your last breath? |
| Do you know what you get? |
| Do you know where you’re going when the devil starts to sweat? |
| Do you know what you get? |
| A cigarette |