Smelling Cigarettes

Very much vodka and too much tequila: those are the ways I learned to deal.
Across against the light and the sleet scalds my sight,
stunned I stayed put and a billboard truck runs over my foot.
So things are really hopping; and my unemployment’s stopping;
and my kitty cat’s copping; and I need to forget.
So I go to the window and smell a cigarette.
Now I’m in the clutches of my crutches:
I’m laid up, and I sip from my cup, and I look outside.
And I see Christopher Hyde-who just got divorced,
and there’s a restraining order enforced-going in his ex-wife's garage.
I’m just drunk enough to open the window, yell out gruff:
«Don't you key that brand-new Camry».
And he gave me the cursor, «Damn, «returning to the spot he was,
«Mind your own business you! «And I wag my finger, «You're not doing what you’re supposed to do».
And then he’s coming toward me, and I took a swig of my tequila
‘cause it made me feel a little nervous as he started across against the light:
but he didn’t look to his right as he didn’t stay put.
And a billboard truck came and ran over his foot.
And the cops responding called out to me,
«Hey is this your cat? ««Yeah, but sometimes it forgets.
Ah, wait a minute.
I gonna come out there and smell a couple a cigarettes.»
Don’t you hurry-worry with me…