Black Comedy

I’m cold, half dead
Blood bag, bandages
I’m sick, twisted
Six months the doctor says
Bad news I’m afraid
We did all we could
But we were too late
Sir could you spare a cigarette
Dead men smoke with no regrets
It’s strange how these sticks have been
Both illness, and medicine
Hey why not celebrate?
You bring the candles and I’ll bring the cake
Doctor, light me up, let me breathe
Lord I could use the nicotine
Could you spare some courtesy,
Doctor please
Could you blame me?
Could you blame me?
And so it begins, nostalgia setting in
I remember childhood dreams
Toy cars and trampolines
They said bad news I’m afraid
We did all we could
But we were too late
Doctor, light me up, let me breathe
Lord I could use the nicotine
Could you spare some courtesy,
Doctor please
Could you blame me?
Could you blame me?
I told you once, I told you twice
You know better, you know better
You made this mess by your own device
You know better, you know better
Well mister preacher man take your own advice
You’re no better, you’re no better
You probably tithe your ten then hit your wife
You’re no better, you’re no better
Doctor, light me up, let me breathe
Lord I could use the nicotine
Could you spare some courtesy,
Doctor please
Could you blame me?
Do you blame me?