Your new billboard
Makes me feel as if
Are creeping slowly up my legs.
When they reach my brain
And I black out
It will be your fault.
Your fault, Pepsi,
That I lose control of my car
And crash into the median.
And at my funeral
Throngs of mourners will curse your name
And people will go around crushing Pepsi cans
And ripping up pictures of your CEO
And making tribute albums all about me
All the cool singers will want to be on it
And it will sell a trillion copies
And with every copy
Will offer a free 20 oz.
To anyone who brings them a chunk
Of every stupid billboard
That’s supposed to be cutting edge
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