Quitting

I'm tired of lying, to myself and by myself I'm tired of dying, by myself and from my self-rolled comfort; Packed security. In eight years it never felt like poison It never felt like she could kill Call this our last embrace Or call this my last taste Of what I can't help but miss - Call it a chance to reminisce No matter. A rose by any other name, A kiss from any other dame - They're both as sweet. So let me finish one last smoke And forgive me for thinking of you as I choke One press to your lips always left me breathless