Long Live Philip Morris

There I was tucked away neatly;
like in a morgue, in a little cage, discreetly.

I waited in silence, waited for my time.
Waited for them to come; to incinerate me
just for mere pleasure; to satisfy their craves.
I waited for my fate and prayed for me.

They didn’t even know who I was, not even my name
and surely they won’t remember my face.
Those, wretched, merciless beings; chatting away.
Those wretched merciless beings.

Then came the time;
I could feel their craving.
There wasn’t much time;
for their will was fading.

I cried to God as they reached for me,
plucked me out to feed on me. I stopped crying
for all hope was lost. I knew my time had come,
I knew my time was up.

I watched in horror; they brought out their lighter.
I trembled in terror; they sparked me in fire.
I felt the flames; they fulfilled their desire.
I burned away. Not even a word!

All that remains are dusts in ashtrays
Of me, my brethren; Benson, Camel and Captain Mike
kidnapped, packed and distributed alike.
That is all that remains.

Thank you for smoking me
and thank Philip Morris: My Executioner.