Funeral smoke

I wish I had a cigarette Which is strange, for I don’t smoke I need something for tension To help me get life’s joke. I want the sharp intake of air, Tainted with nicotine’s kick, I’ve tried to grin and bear the pain, But my stomach just feels sick. My friend is dead, buried and gone Never to be seen again, I watched them close the coffin lid Just after half past ten. We stood and said our sad farewells Then left him where he lay, We got into our motor cars, and slowly drove away. We raised a glass and spoke no ill of our imperfect, now late friend, we didn’t speak his faults aloud, the ones that brought his end. We made kind noises, and edged around the cause of his demise, But the pain was clear for all to see in his grieving fathers eyes. I don’t think I’ll take that cigarette, I’ll keep myself smoke free, I’ll quietly count my blessings, And thank God it wasn’t me.