Smog
Finer Days
Granted passage into the finer days
How I got here, I do not know
And if it were all to disappear
I would not know how to return

And all of my old friends
They want me to stay down, down, down with them
I could extend them a hand
But they would only pull it off
In their grasp, in their powder

And so, I find myself isolated
Isolated in these fine, fine days