(Source: johnsturturro)
(Source: brandonispoor)
Tell me where do they go,
These smoke rings I blow each night?
What do they do these circles of blue and white?
And why do they seem to picture a dream of love?
Why do they fade my phantom parade of love?
Where do they end, the smoke rings I send on high?
Where are they hurled when they’ve kissed the world good-bye?
Oh, I’d give my life to laugh at this stife below;
I’d be a king, I’d follow each ring I blow.
Puff, puff, puff, puff your cares away;
Puff, puff, puff night and day.
Blow, blow them through the air, silky little rings,
Blow, blow them ev’rywhere, give your troubles wings.
What do they tell and what is the spell they cast?
Some of them fall and seem to recall the past.
But most of them rise away to the skies of blue.
Oh, little smoke rings I love,
Please take me above, take me with you.
(Source: theskankbank)
