In the dark, I seek my path;
With the glow of a little burning stick;
For, I know not the light of my inner-self;
For, the smoke is here all around me.

In the face of death, I seek life;
And see, I am here without me;
For, my vision is blurred; insight lost;
For, the smoke is here all around me.

In the lost hours, I seek moments;
To tell, the ash on the ground is my flesh;
But, what I say? My throat is all choked;
For, the smoke is here all around me.

In the mirror, I seek my face;
And I see that I see nothing; but,
Just a cigarette in my hand and a frail me;
For, the smoke is here all around me.