Chanson Noire

I see them drift away
From the tip of your cigarette
Whirls of violet smoke
Swaying
Motionless in a black vertigo
I lose my balance and my memory

All these sounds swirling
And then never stopping
Give me a vague headache
From blind madness to all-too-lucid despair
Everything seems useless and ridiculous

When your cigarette goes out
Perhaps I'll see more clearly