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Smoke was rising fast,
Twisting into the air,
And formed a black veil,
Your lungs had to wear.
Into your mouth went
Those 'harmless' white sticks,
Burning your windpipe
That no one could fix.
How much was it then?
'Only ten' a day?
And they were whisking
Your whole life away.
Unaware of the
Hurt, the sorrow caused,
Round a black gravestone
For you that they paused,
And now it's too late,
You lie in the hills,
Should have remembered
That smoking- it kills.
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