I do not want to talk

You turned me into an ash tray

One that is smaller than you,

But has been put to more use

I am overflowing with carcinogenic filth

However,

Now I see you are more,

Far more than an ash tray

You’re the whole apothecary

While you drown your worries 

Mine fill me up 

Just another tap from another’s cigarette

The ash piles up

Onto the mountain, without a fuss

I have lost the desire to dine

And whine

With you

Oh sweet and true apothecary, I worry about you