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  • Writer's pictureKatarina

Second Hand Smoke

Raised us to do better, and now we know better

So, why won't you listen?

I have to hate drawing on paper for my own sanity,

And I'm supporting your vanity—whichever way I turn.

Reaching and preaching and almost screeching to get us all to hear the alarm!

It's getting really warm!

Help! There's a fire!

Only one of us is the liar and it's not me.

I'm barely even here – drowning in sun block and your second hand smoke.

You took what you wanted and took the rest for granted,

Left the floor slanted and waiting to cave in;

We're playing a game we can't ever win.

Torture by torture, turns into a fortune, and the prisoner is dying,

So many of us are trying.

We're not crying wolf – just crying for the truth,

To come out, come out, wherever it hides.

We're trying to change the tides.

Don't ask where it hurts,

We hope you'll kiss it better, but you pinch it harder and the world keeps bleeding.

Where did you lose your mind? Can you think about your part?

Where did you leave your heart? Could you try to be kind?

And where did you hide your soul?

Is it somewhere you can reach?

You're blurring the lines,

Painting the skies and stealing our stars,

Before we had a chance to see.

You're playing with knives, leaving scars that weren't meant to be.

Such an ugly cruelty leaves nothing but certainty – that

All the cigars and the burning scars will reach your treasure pile,

And you can't win that trial,

Because you'll choke on your second hand smoke.

World's been poisoned since we woke,

Before we talked,

Before we walked,

Because of you and your second hand smoke.

But now all the walls broke,

And the prisoner is mad.

Hope you have enough gold,

To pay back what you sold.


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