I'm about to go have my morning cigarette, an unfiltered "early" morning affair between tobacco and my lungs. The lust that drives these lovers borders on rage, the way they tear into one another, it's greedy is what it is. They must be searching for something in the deepest part of one another and the only way to find it is by clawing your way through flesh and bone.
Melodramatique aside, I smoke because i want to.
Everyone tells me to stop smoking; my parents, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, cousins, whichever. Stop before it kills you, stop before it's too late, but they're the ones that should stop. Stop encouraging me that is.
If you don't understand that contradiction, then you sure as hell won't understand this one:
I smoke because i love my life.