Sunday Smoke

I'm awake again and tapping keys, rubbing strings
Wonder when did I have to cope this way?
I'm still within these walls, I watched the old paint dry until I stared at plaster
How could it have been this long?
Why has it felt so long?
Why have I pulled myself from the sheets?
I should have been laid upon the gurney
Send me to the furnace, bottle my ashes, the ashtray is all full up
Smoking just to smoke, to pass time, passing time
I fucking detest the notion, what good is this?
Why do I always have to pass the time?
I want time to pass me by, it's a long day already
My eyes sting upon awakening, a warning of what's to come
Clamber to the edge of my mattress and reach a hideous, mottled, scarred and ruined arm out
Clutching the bong before I can think of clothing
"I need another shottie", dab, dab, light, breathe in, inhale toxins, breathe out
Search for more and repeat
Happy Sunday, Shall I wear these smoke rings as my halo?
For it's a holy day, and I'm a temporary saint
Waiting to be blown away like the blue clouds in this room
I'm perverting the sky, that I'd like to believe
My window is showing me I'm wrong