In the haze of smoke, a silent cry,
A breath of death thatâs drifting by.
A whisper of the night, it clings,
In every puff, a sorrow sings.
The ember glows, a fleeting light,
It fades away into the night.
A fleeting pleasure, fleeting pain,
A life consumed in smoky rain.
With every drag, the shadows grow,
A grasp of death, so soft and slow.
Lungs that once were pure and free,
Now chains of smoke encircle thee.
Yet hope remains, a distant star,
To break the chains, to heal the scar.
In every heart, a flame of life,
To end the dance of smoke and strife.