I was on the high speed train, and, as usual, had taken off my shoes and glasses. I saw a cemetery flying by at two hundred an hour, so I put on my glasses to check out the tombstones. Whoa! It was a bunch of townhouses. Suffice it to say, it was a major letdown.
I’m taking out a cigarette that’s gonna give me cancer. Not all cigarettes cause cancer, just this one that I’m lighting right now. I’m the one who picks the cigarette and the day when I’ll take my last puff. It hit me last Saturday. I said to myself, “this cigarette is gonna kill me, I can ditch it right now and keep the good health I’ve got.” But I decided to finish it. Hell, let’s enjoy the beginning of the end. Some people don’t finish their cigarettes. They don’t smoke ‘em ‘til they burn their lips and the tips of their fingers, or ‘til the smoke gets in their eyes. They throw half-smoked cigarettes down the sewers or into a puddle on the street and continue right on with the rest of their lives...