Late in the night
I sit in a subway
Smoking a cigarette
Wishing it wasn't the second to last

Sitting across from me
A man in a suit stares
His sunglasses and top hat
Covering his face

I ask "What are you staring at?"
The man replies in an out of the ordinary voice
"Oh pardon me sir, can I beg you of a cigarette?"
I told him I hadn't any to give and that I was smoking my last.
"Ah, there isn't one left?"
Sticking to my story, I say no

The man gives me an eerie look
As if he could see right through me
"You sir, you lie. Liars shall perish."
"Ah you can go to hell…" I say
The man laughs, "But we're already in it. Trust me."

I ignore the comment
Moments pass by

Then he lit a cigarette
I look at him in anger and disbelief
And then I look to my pack
My last cigarette was gone
A piece of paper sit instead
It read "Welcome to Hell"
I look up to find an empty seat in front of me