The cigarette fell in love with the fingers,

The fingers gave the cigarette to the lips,

The cigarette kissed the lips,

The heart felt Lung,

Lung thought he got Cigarette’s sincerity, but he didn’t know he had hurt himself!

Is it the betrayal of the fingers that makes the smoke so passionate?

Or is it the greed of the lips that makes the lungs sad...

Life is like smoke,

The years have no trace,

The smoke comes from the passion,

But it burns itself until only ashes are left...