Pistashio

Sit down and fire away
 I know it's tricky when you're feeling low
 When you feel like your flavour has gone the way
 Of a pre-shelled pistachio
 I know you're weighed down
 And fed up with your heavy boots
 Laced with melancholy notions all your own
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 I do, like sugar, tend toward the brittle and sticky when spun
 And I know my demeanour can go the way
 Of a photo left out in the sun
 And I try to keep myself in lilies and flax seeds
 Oh, what a folly, fooling just yourself
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 Sit down and smoke away
 I wouldn't knock it 'til you're in them shoes
 I watch as our subtlety blows away
 As a blush it gives way to a bruise
 And seemly, we'd freely make a trade-off
 A dry rot to take the weight off
 And swap the boots for red shoes