Pistachio

Sit down and fire away, I know it's tricky when you're feeling low, When you feel like your flavor Has gone the way of a pre-shelled pistachio, I know you're weighed down You're fed up with your heavy Your boots Laced with melancholy notion's all you own I do, like sugar, tend toward the brittle and sticky when spun And I know my demeanor Has gone the way of a photo left out in the sun, So I try to keep myself in lillies and flax seeds, Oh what a folly- fooling just yourself Sit down and smoke away, I wouldn't knock it till you're in them shoes Oh watch as ours subtlety blows away as a blusher gives way to a bruise, But seemly, we'd freely make a trade-off A dry rot to take the weight off Swap the boots for red shoes