Lonely Cigarette Blues

Names of lovers carved on desks,  
they're drums on slow and rainy days.  
 
Sticks and fences, found ten pences..
Money for your cigarettes.  
 
Mam's on your case about a job,
no need to be a filthy slob.  
Your happiness is fading fast,  
like hearts on mirrors.. never last.
 
but you can take your solace son,  
pay for your smokes and have some fun.  
 
So dance around the jukebox...
to a bluesy rhythm sound.
just make sure you've got a lighter
and flick your ash upon the ground.
 
it's all you really need in this hopeless little town,  
is the money for your cigarettes change in your pocket sound.