sit down and fire away,   i know it's tricky when you're feeling low,   when you feel like your flavour   has gone the way of a pre-shelled pistachio...   i know you're weighed down   you're fed up with your heavy   your boots   laced with melancholy notion's all you own...      i do - like sugar - tend toward the brittle and sticky when spun   and i know my demeanor   has gone the way of a photo left out in the sun...   so i try to keep myself in lillies and flax seeds...   oh what a folly- fooling just yourself...      sit down and smoke away,i wouldn't knock it till you're in them shoes   oh watch as ours subtlety blows away as a blusher gives way to a bruise...   but seemly, we'd freely make a trade-off   a dry rot to take the weight off   swap the boots for red shoes