I wake up in the morning and smoke my cigarettes,
I'm siting in the kitchen waiting for the coffee.
It's cold and lonely underneath the sky,
So I better smoke another cigarette.

Coffee is ready but it's time for me to go,
I'm looking in the mirror and all I see is other side,
Should I brake it in many little peaces,
and Maybe it will be just like suicide.

I'm walking slowly underneath the sky,
I'm smoking last one of my cigarettes.
Waiting for moment when the time will fly,
I know that I'm surely having no regrets.