He drops his hands and lets the bottle fall ’til it hits the ground
With a cigarette on high alert, forever and a day waiting it out to take him down
If the other one does, in fact, manage to do its job
And this time it does indeed!
All of these inadequacies atop a simple albeit remiss slip of his eyelid
And two utterly addictive concoctions get to opt entirely upon infusing together
Rather desperately
Time to abuse the sitter all over
And then a basement flat begins to go up in flames
And he only starts to feel the true pain of the dire situation that he finds himself in so soon as he is awoken by a fit of perverted elation
Eyes wider than these smoke-ridden skies right now, unable to catch a breath, a break
Anything at all
Hands on deck, ’til he feels an almighty bite, his leg catch a different kind of wind altogether
A wind only ever enveloped by blasphemous fire
When he tries to turn back time somewhat, his arms scream before falling
What it would perhaps say if, in fact, a dastardly cigarette and a beer could talk
We may as well chalk it all down to these aforementioned inadequacies we speak of
Push comes to shove and he still never, EVER stood a chance in hell
Where he may well lie right now