Cigarettes

George smoked ciggies
Often
Probably every day
Breathing smoke and blackened tar
Into his lung
A way of calming nerves
A sell out
Packets many he
Drew that nicotine into his lungs
It seems to me

In those days it was cool to smoke
You did it people thought
And George found solace in the weed
And hundreds of them bought
A constant and a habit
Sadly it could be said
This prince among the artists
His appetite he fed

His lungs they took a beating
His soul urge sadly too
Smoking sucking all that tar
Isn’t good for you
It wasn’t good for this young man
And cancer came to call
It took him from this life of ours
Too soon