An empty pack makes for an empty heart
Longing the rack to my chest like a dart
Once bought the mood will be lifted
With my cash, borrowed, stole or grifted
To take the time to let it hurt
To feel the corpus twist in fit
To admire the camel in the boxes art
Read the warning the surgeon general doth writ,

A pull on the slit, round goes the tab
One pack closer to sitting on a slab
Flip away the wrap, quickly it does run
Glinting like some cellophane fairy in the sun
Flip the lid pull the foil
Fold it nicely, into the wrap I tuck
The reason for this unneccesary toil
A friend once told me it was good luck

One smoke out, turned round, back in the pit
This will be the "Lucky" I need all I can get
Now the real smoke is out, pack back in the pants
I stick it between my lips as if in a trance
I open my lighter with a foppish flourish
I inhale the first drag, damn it tastes good
I exhale through the nose, looking quite boorish
This is the therepist, playmate and replacer of food.

Than comes the buzz, oh, the buzz so sweet
Starts at the back, than on to the feet
A tablespoon of sugar dumped into my blood
Heart works double, muscles surge with the flood
My swimming head looks up, the sky is so fair
Time seems to slow, than speed double quick
Everything loosens from the lack of air
This herb, so great, yet destroyer of men
After this pack I shall truly quit
And start the nicotine dance again