You might have been born a ladybug,
You might have been born a cat,
You might have been born an ear of corn or a bat,
But you had luck of a special kind.
You were born a being with a mind and a voice,
And the power of choice.

You can do yourself in if you like.
You can dissolve your brain cells in gin if you like,
And that delicate pair of lungs you were born with to feed you your air,
You can choke them on hot smoke instead
Until they turn blue and can no longer do what they're meant to do.
It's all up to you.