Spike cracked open a bloodshot eye. He slipped silently out from between the sheets and timidly stepped on to the pale blue carpet. He looked to the clock and the red numbers glared back.
It's 3 a.m., So I creep,
Around the room,
While you're asleep,
Spike gazed apprehensively at the double bed. The slender lump in the covers was still sleeping. He let out a relieved sigh, he hadn't woken Julia.
I want you,
To sleep real tight,
Don't wanna turn on,
Any light,
Spike smiled to himself. Julia had been dedicating her waking hours to break his habit, but when she was sleeping, well that was a different matter.
I care about you,
About you I fret,
But right now,
I need a cigarette,
Spike with a stab of guilt got back into the bed. He closed his eyes for a few minutes but it was no use.
I can't sleep,
I gotta smoke,
I think left some,
In my coat,
He shot out of bed and grabbed his dark blue coat, violently checking the pockets.
No they're not there,
But there's a chance,
I left same in the pocket,
Of my pants,
"Fuck," grunted Spike, doubling over in pain.
Bumped into the table,
Just below the belt,
If you were a man, baby,
You'd know how it felt!
His eyes were watering, but he was just glad he hadn't woken Julia.
Uh-huh
There's just one thing I don't wanna do,
And that one thing is to wake up you,
My hands are shakin' my brow it is damp,
Bumped into the chair,
Knocked over the lamp,
Bumped into the chair,
Knocked over the lamp,
He nursed a buise on his head momentarly. Then he he suddenly remembered.
Sure I know where,
Some cigarettes are...
Spike looked out the window, peeking though the blinds. It was snowing.
But it's too cold outside,
To go to the car,
He circled the room, pondering.
This habit of mine,
It's gotta be fed,
Gonna get down and scrounge 'round,
Under the bed.
Under the bed,
Down on the floor,
Up on top,
I can hear you snore,
Snore, baby!
Spike wondered when underneath the bed had last seen a vacume cleaner. He stiffled a snezze and felt around alittle more until:
Eureka!
I'm in luck,
Found some matches,
And a crumpled butt,
Spike drew out a shakey breath as he pulled himself out from under the bed. He lit the cigarette butt with shaking hands and he savoured the first drag for much longer than normal.
Just to show,
I love you,
Not gonna look for an ashtray, baby,
Gonna use your shoe!
She would kill him for sure, this he knew, but it was an emergency. He needed to smoke.
It's 3 a.m., And so I creep,
Around the room,
Cause you're asleep.
That morning: "Spike? Why the hell is there ash in my shoe?!"
