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Its 4 am I'm listening to a room of chainsmokers Sound of a cigarette pressed hard against wet lips expanding at the fold, it draws me in and I wonder why I don't smoke we listen like shapes of clouds barely made out recognized the best in the context of great ideas in ceramic cups hot hot air was all we need to fill us up So my ankles roll in my cubicle for a cigarette break I want to stand outside at 3 in the afternoon As the it twists between my finger tips and my hips its 4 am I'm listening to a room of chainsmokers sound of a cigarette pressed hard against wet lips expanding at the folds draws me in and I wonder why I don't smoke. From Letras Mania