You are lead by a masked man in black
To an instrument of torture, the infamous rack
Where this cruel man places you with evil intent
And stretches you slowly, you feel pain intense
Once he has tired of his macabre game
He leaves you weak, alone and lame
But then appears your saviour in white
He frees you and you clap your hands in delight
He then disappears and to your absolute dismay
The masked man returns, he's come back your way
And sadistically places you back on the rack
Turning it ever so gently, until your back gives a crack
But again he tires of his twisted pleasure
He leaves and is replaced by your white knight, what a treasure
Who wondrously releases you from this relentless agony
And again you clap your hands delightedly
But the masked man has not finished, he's back again
He racks you, the man in white liberates you, it's an endless refrain
One day, though, you notice with shock and surprise
When the man in black's mask slips, he has the man in white's eyes
I am telling you this quaint little ditty
Not because I want to appear witty
But to help you understand all about the cigarette pack
Certainly, it is the man in white, but it's also the man in black
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Chinese wise man say: She who talk cigarettes all day will dream cigarettes all night and smoke cigarettes all life. H