Loose Cigarettes - Dangers

Black lung

Black life

The black hole stuck inside my half-black, heavy heart

As if these stupid words might play some part in status quos, in sleeper holds,

in middle passage or tobacco roads

Just like four-hundred years of loaded guns might somehow be undone by singing

songs like they were bricks when we’re, we’re trading lives for loose

cigarettes, and blackened eyes, and blackened lungs, and free TVs,

and capsicum clouds

And if there is a god, well, she don’t care at all if we, we sing the songs,

we throw the bricks

We’re trying to breathe but we’re choking on words like pig

And I’m just trying, I’m trying to breathe again

It changes nothing but I… I guess I need to pretend

And I’m just trying, I’m trying to breathe again

It changes nothing but sometimes it helps to pretend