We’re breathing in a little flame,
and breathing out the smoke
This is how we warm ourselves
When nothing seems to work
Save your matches and your troubles
I’ve more than most to spare
I’m not here to listen to yours
And I could hardly care
But still I learn, accidentally,
What it’s like to wear your shoes
Seven and half and red on the edges
The laces slightly blue
I occasionally see you at “our spot”
And now I’m a little confused
Do I like to light up more often now?
Or is it because of you?