Pistashio

Sit down and fire away'

I know it's tricky when you're feeling low'

When you feel like your flavour

Has gone the way of a pre-shelled pistachio...

I know you're weighed down

You're fed up with your heavy

Your boots

laced with melancholy notion's all you own...

I do - like sugar -

Tend toward the brittle and sticky when spun

and I know my demeanor

has gone the way of a photo left out in the sun...

so I try to keep myself in lillies and flax seeds...

oh what a folly- fooling just yourself...

Sit down and smoke away'

I wouldn't knock it till you're in them shoes

oh watch as ours subtlety blows away

as a blusher gives way to a bruise...

But seemly' we'd freely make a trade-off

a dry rot to take the weight off

Swap the boots for red shoes