That last cigarette

Farewell old friends, as once again, you find yourselves in the bin,

Already I am missing you, and on anything I would gladly chew,

After three days the cough arrives, spitting up gunk, surprise, surprise,

The fuse is short through this first week, on tender feet, the family creep.

The second week is really rough, but I’ll see it through, I must be tough.

Body shaking from withdrawal, I can hardly get no sleep at all.

Last night I dreamt I was a cigarette, and smoked myself up to my neck,

There were witches riding on their brooms, all around the old bedroom.

They laughed at me and that’s no joke, for every one of them had a smoke.

The morning finds me in a ball of sweat, and half the pillow is nearly eat.

Lungs and mouth are crying out for some, but all they will get is chewing gum.

At last the third week is here, the crucial point is drawing near.

Now the cross is heavy on my back, must be strong, no getting slack.

I go out with a friend for a drink, he offers me one, he did not think.

With trembling hands I refuse, because with just one drag, I will lose.

I realize then, I will prevail, for this test at least I did not fail.

You will either win or lose, there is no in between,

When you take on that heavy weight, Mr. Nicotine.