Mary’s wiping ashes from her clothes
Blackened matches strewn across the floor
The smoke rose slowly and was pushed out by the vent
The guiding light was just the tip of her cigarette
She smokes in bed
Mary doesn’t care about herself
So what chance is there for anybody else
Sometimes I wonder about the heartache that lies ahead
Any day now she’ll set fire to her head
She smokes in bed
Nervous neighbors peeping through the blinds
Piercing sirens cutting through the night
Molten rubble settling to rest
They searched for hours
There wasn’t anybody left
She smoked in bed

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