Cigarette Machine

Dry heave doubt

From a little old dragon's mouth

Split lip and split tongue

Finally, cross-eyed

She stands next to the cigarette machine

This device has got it made, she thinks

It has a cast-iron stomach, but a candle for a heart

Odd the way the very stuff falls out

Hard the way it makes you doubt

This thing leaps up, complains, full of vile

Not even star-crossed, just unlucky

Odd how the very stuff falls out

Hard the way it makes you smile

This things leaps up, complains

Not even star-crossed, just unlucky