Smoker’s Cough

When I can’t be with you I’m just falling
Through the edges of the bed sheets of anyone willing
I close my eyes and grip their arms tightly
And pretend that you are the one that I’m kissing
Nothing there but foolish fantasy hurt and bleeding
And when you call and say you’re too busy
You’re only ruining some other man’s feelings
While he falls in love with what you should be getting
I feel the end of my life at every beginning
One word from you and there’s no one else to be seeing
And this torturous humiliation is off what you are feeding
When I can’t be with you my low life is fleeting
I’m nothing but devotion when you deny what I’m needing
Through slick edges of the bed sheets of anyone willing
Nothing but my damnation as you deny I have meaning
I close my eyes and grip their arms dreaming
I can’t fall any further than hell’s tip where you leave me
So I keep scheming and pretending and scheming
Yet my heart’s an angry drum unnecessarily clanging
Through empty edges of bed sheets where your love is hanging

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