The Great American Smokeout

Humming to himself as he
Is thinking of his latest debts
Juggling some numbered thoughts
Wondering what might come next
And swears he won’t
Ever stop
Unless he wants what
She surely does not
Oh, Jim, John, Jackie, and Susie Q
They mind their manners but so do you
Oh we breathe all of these words that make no sense
Humming to himself as he
Is thinking of his latest debts
Juggling some numbered thoughts
Wondering what might come next
And swears he’s right
Though he’s convinced himself it is
Working in an upscale place
She’s thinking of her son’s demise
On his epitaph a doctor’s bill
She puts off for another time
And swears she won’t
Ever stop
Unless she wants what
She surely does not
Oh, Jim, John, Jackie, and Susie Q
They mind their manners but so do you
Oh we breathe all of these words that make no sense
Not gonna see till my singing days are gone
Not gonna hear until the fires have burned on
Not gonna, no oh
Not gonna, no oh
Not gonna, no oh
Till the singing days are gone