Dusty afternoons roasted in the desire for more
Basking in your face brushed with golden sunlight
All your cares engraved into your masculine face
Somehow drawn and erased by the hand of light
All of your years deepened by your next deep drag
But with a childish hope hidden in your smooth cheeks
Your two-faced friend of so many years
That mundane smell which blackens our lungs
But which draws me closer to your allure
I cannot help but split a smile at your weary humour
Breathing in the thing that has held you for so many years
Held you like it's taking hold of me through your rusty charm
Which I'm sure was quite impressive in your own golden day
I cannot help but be intoxicated by your poison axle
Sucked in like the smokey air whispering through your lungs
Wishing that the poison was just a bad joke so that maybe
Just maybe I could join you in your lazy afternoon
Exchanging the smoke that could become our history
Murmuring into a secluded afternoon broken by an eraser
Which senses our fractured connection like some twisted fairytale
Maybe if I were a ghost, I could be your vice.