Smokey And The Sore Losers

Verse 1

Smokey’s on the porch with a half‑lit smoke

Dragging through the night, almost thought he would choke

Ashes on her sleeve, cloudy ghosts in her hair,

While the family stomps inside, yelling “Life ain’t fair!”

They lost the match again, to a team that played clean,

Fair hearts, bright eyes, you know the type—

the ones who never need a fight to shine.

Pre‑Chorus

And Smokey laughs, blowing rings at the ceiling,

Says, “Losing ain’t dying, it’s just a damn feeling.”

Chorus

Smokey and the sore losers,

Cursing at the scoreboard lights.

She’s burning through her pack of bruisers,

They’re burning for another fight.

Fair play beat their fury,

Compassion crushed hollow rage.

Smokey shrugs, “Alright, kids—

life rolled on you center stage.”

Verse 2

Slammed the fridge door, blame the ref, blame the blue sky,

Blame the noble team who didn’t even try

to rub the win in—no taunts, no cruel grin—

just handshakes offered with genuine spin.

But pride’s a fragile thing, brittle as her cigarette,

And every puff she takes reminds them

they ain’t learned their lesson yet.

Pre‑Chorus

Smokey sighs, flicks a spark in the darkness,

Says, “Losing ain’t shameful—acting like this is heartless.”

Chorus

Smokey and the sore losers,

Throwing tantrums at the moon.

She’s lighting up another fuse,

They’re lighting up the living room.

Fair play beat their fury,

Compassion crushed their rage.

Smokey mutters, “Grow up, kids—

life don’t owe you center stage.”

Bridge

She stands up slow, smoke trailing like a flag,

Says, “You want respect? Then drop the damn brag.

Those kids beat you honest—no tricks, no cheap shots.

If you can’t take a loss, you’ll never earn your spots.”

Final Chorus

Smokey and the sore losers,

Finally breathing in the truth.

She’s crushing out her last ember,

They’re crushing down their wasted youth.

Fair play beat their fury,

Compassion set the tone.

Smokey whispers, “Next time you lose—

lose like you’re fully grown.”