If I were the last chip, the very last one,
I would hope that the snacker would think the bag done.
I would hide in the corner, and scrunch up real small,
I would become as if I was nothing at all.
If I were the last chip, I think I might cry,
For all of my colleagues would have gone off to die.
I would be forever alone, all lonely and sad,
It would be painful and tearful, bitter and bad.
And because of the hurt that would cut me so deep,
I would pray to the Lord my soul to keep.
"Take me away, O Hand from the Sky,
I'm ready to go, to say my final good-bye."