Cigarettes, strawberry gum, cigarettes, strawberry gum, cigarettes--- If only everything wasn't so routine. But that's what life was, right? You plant roots, hoping that you can grow more and more, people come along to admire your flowers. That's what he was like. He admired my flowers and I admired him, admired the way he bent and writhed underneath me, the way he squirmed and arched... /The way he looked when he left. /