Men find pleasure in the cruelest acts.
The lighter sounds click, click, click
Open packet pick, pick, pick
This one, that one, no the first
They’re all the same, but that one’s worse
The heat, the ash, the waiting game
For all your wants, my claim to fame
And then it pushes, the glowing eye
It twists and screams up to the sky
For you, the pleasure, it’s only fair
That it’s my mark, my shame to wear
Now my flesh, scarred, enflamed
Was I good enough, to want again?