Fume

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Longleaf

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A corona of smoke hangs around my head, stagnant and still in the room
I'm shot through with a pang of dread, I can read my own fortune in the fume
Pain and fear, ah that much is clear, that's your bread and your butter of course
But what if you never get back how you were, and what if you lose your remorse

My girl she is vicious, beautiful though
Hard and she's soft, pitiless cold
She fills up my mouth with her taste and I know
She's pure and she's heavy she never goes slow

Stashed in a drawer full of points and stems, empty baggies and cotton balls
Is the last of your rent money, almost spent
Bout to make almost all
And who gives a shit about my future self, he can pay all the debts I incur
With his future job and his future wealth, why not it's all he deserves

My girl she is vicious, beautiful though
Hard and she's soft, pitiless cold
She fills up my mouth with her taste and I know
She's pure and she's heavy she never goes slow

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