Mary's wiping ashes from her clothes Blackened matches strewn across the floor The smoke rose slowly and was pushed out by the vent The guiding light was just the tip of her cigarette She smokes in bed
Mary doesn't care about herself So what chance is there for anybody else? Sometimes I wonder about the heartache that lies ahead Any day now she'll set fire to her head She smokes in bed
Nervous neighbors peeping through her blinds Piercing sirens cutting through the night Molten rubble settling to rest They searched for hours, there wasn't anybody left She smoked in bed
