When you see someone drag on a cigarette, they appear to be feeling great pleasure You would like to get some of that too, you want enjoyment in the same measure But let's do a bit of psychoanalysis, how is this pleasure achieved? In a way you couldn't possibly have dreamt of it's a design elaborately weaved
When you first drag on a cigarette it's not something you will adore You're missing out on all the thrills you'll keep trying til you score You try and try and wonder why, the magic just doesn't come But then a new thought enters your mind, it starts as just a gentle hum
Nicotine's been in your body for some time although you've never had any fun But maybe, just like every other smoker you must continue, or you'll be done You start to think that once the poison's in it MUST be kept filled to the right elevation You start to worry if it's low, if it is you feel some trepidation
Now comes anxiety, fear and worry that you never had before You drag in deeply, they disappear briefly oh, the pleasure of being so sure That your nicotine levels, they're OK it gives you such satisfaction But as soon as they drop even a little bit you swing right back into action
You must light up no matter what nicotine is needed, that is clear What did you find in those cigarettes? It wasn't pleasure, it was fear