I, cigarette fingers   puff and poke   puff and poking the smoke   touches the ground         You, your lungs and your wrists   they throb like trains   choo choo choo   it's a prison of sound         of sound         She, by my chinny chin chin [buying chilly chin-chin?]   Eee-oh Eee-oh   Like a zippo smokes the way   hope, around         You, your lungs and your wrists   they throb like trains   choo choo choo   It's a prison of sound         a prison of sound         She, by the hair of my chinny chin chin   Eee-oh Eee-oh Eee-oh Eee-oh   Like a zippo smokes the way   hope, around         You, your lungs and your wrists   they throb like trains   choo choo choo   it's a prison of sound         I poke around...