SMOKING

 

The Smoking Section: Where the Real Party Lives

Out back by the benches, where smoke gently swirls,
You'll find the wise women, the sharp-tongued old girls,
And gents with a grin and a glint in their eye—
The smokers, my friend, where the truth doesn't lie.

They puff and they ponder, they laugh and they tease,
They chat about politics, movies, and cheese.
No topic’s too sacred, no filter too tight,
Their conversations spark day into night.

With dogs at their feet and opinions in tow,
They'll tell you what’s wrong with the world, and you'll know!
With stories from decades of living out loud,
They're the sassiest, classiest bunch in the crowd.

They’ve danced through the eras, seen fads come and go,
But still light up freely, with spirit aglow.
Convention? They crushed it. Inhibition? Please—
They speak truth and mischief with elegant ease.

Some say, “That’s the rebel crew, hard to ignore,”
We say, “That’s the heartbeat outside of the door!”
They’ve got hearts of gold and minds sharp as tacks,
With jokes that will floor you—and never hold back.

They’ve earned every wrinkle, each chuckle and quip,
Each cigarette paired with a fast-flying lip.
Let the world pass its judgment—they just roll their eyes,
And light up again 'neath the wide open skies.

So here’s to the smokers, the joy they ignite—
The rebels of reason, the keepers of light.
If you want the real story, the fun, and the flair—
You’ll find it out back, in the fresh smoky air.