It was a quiet morning, the town covered over with darkness and at ease in bed.
Summer gathered in the weather, the wind had the proper touch, the breathing of the world was long and warm and slow. You had only to rise, lean from your window, and know that this indeed was the first real time of freedom and living, this was the first morning of summer.
Strapped in the chair of the city's gas chamber
Why I'm here I can't quite remember.
The surgeon general says it's hazardous to breathe
I'd have another cigarette but I can't see.
Tell me who you're going to believe?
A split in the chest and it became somehow, you know...
Not quite comfortable, it's hard to breathe.