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Clouds of smoke wallowing through the air,
Pints of liquor staring me in the eye.
Drugs and pot surrounding me well,
But who am I to tell a lie?
The lie would be I desire this,
The drugs, the smoke, the pot.
But in reality, I am seen as a lone ranger,
No company is what I got.
It seems like everyone is falling,
To the poison of this disease.
And as I watch these people fall,
I wonder if they will ever achieve true peace.
They just keep on doing it,
But seem to get nowhere in their attempts.
I can see what they cannot,
These items are just contempt.
Surely, I am a victim,
Second hand smoke is my demise.
But even though it has reached my lungs,
I will not give up; are you surprised?
The smoke has given me a problem,
Asthma to be exact.
It has surely ruined my respiration,
But I will not surrender, that's a fact.
I made a lifetime commitment,
To stay clean for as long as I breathe.
Peer pressure will not bother me,
As I watch those chemicals seethe.