So the story's pretty gory as far as cancer gets
And as your tissue breaks down and you're dying and crying
You'll be counting up the chemicals that that stogie is frying
And as you're chomping down those Big Macs, and fry stacks, and sugar snacks
You should go see a Psychoquack for that Arterial Plaque
It's addicting, afflicting, conflicting, and restricting
Do you understand this picture I'm depicting?
(If you need more than two stanzas, let me know.)
You work all day long,
You don't listen to your favourite song.
Whenever you are broke,
you really want to smoke.
Forgetting about your health,
You spend all your wealth.
You kill your lung cell,
Which helps you breathe well.
You fill your blood with nicotine,
And you don't know what that mean.
You get sick with each passing day,
You live everyday in a dismay.
At the end you get lung cancer,
And you have a valid answer.
You did not cared about your body system,
You became a cancer victim.
This poem is scary enough to help people quit smoking.
your answer is c) plasma