It pleased my friend to have a feeling ,
That could make him feel real,
That could make him happy with smile,
Every day he could sit by the roadside,
Smoke weed then go mad,
And laugh at his problems,
Only to meet them next morning.
Diagnosed with lung cancer,
Doctors have no curing answer,
Coughing mercilessly he is,
At a distance glancing at the grave,
His children will soon miss him,
He wishes he never existed,
Shun to be a smoker.