Blowing Smoke

You sing, you smile, you live, you shout
You think you’re smart, unique there is no doubt
I reckon in the end you’ll be a lord

You might be on the radio, tuned all day

I’m not alone in thinking you are such a prick
Blowing smoke on kids with your trendy cigarettes
Dying will be your fate

You grin you vaunt to the proles that you taunt
You know you are prettier than the crowd
Perhaps in the end you’ll be God

You might be on the radio, tuned all day

I’m not alone in thinking you are such a prick
Blowing smoke on kids with your trendy cigarettes
Dying will be your fate

But surely there’s a bit of hell inside you
There must be a part of good inside you
Come on you’ll see
There’s no point to be
Pompous and fussy
Try not to live
Your life like Holmes
He was all alone
Where does it lead?
What does it mean to be a prick?