Oh yes, who remembers the days
Of Terminal 2 at Pearson Airport’s maze
When smoking was still allowed to blaze
And the cafeteria had a back row, a smoker’s phase
Those were the days of clouded air
The sweet, smoky scent lingering everywhere
Back then, we sat in that row without a care
As if the world had no other layer to spare
The sound of planes roaring above
Made our hearts soar high, our dreams we’d love
We watched the people rush, from afar
As we sat and smoked, a never-ending cigar
But those days have now become history
Gone are the clouds, the scent, the mystery
No longer can we sit and puff with such liberty
And the back row of the cafeteria is now just a memory
Yet, still, we reminisce with a smile
Those days of Terminal 2’s style
The thrill of travel, the cigarette’s guile
Oh yes, those were the days, worth the while.
