There are angels in the alcohol,
But devils in the glass-
No matter how quick you pour
It seems to drain so fast

And each
And every puff
Of that cigarette so sweet,
Draws me closer to the grave
I see lying at my feet

And every drink,
And every drag,
It burns! How it hurts!
Though the pain is cleansing,

Perhaps,
When there's nothing left of me,
I'll find my peace
In dirt.

And no one misses
The dirt.