they say they are drugs
and that they do nothin’
but bad,
unless they filter it through
the beurocracy and all of their
committees and sheets of
paper thick with molasses.
i, say, i love you all when
my little white friends drift
lazily down my throat.
i say that i’m at 100% when my
good old friends sit around
on velvet couches and chat
about things that make us happy
resting our feet on a coffee table
made of pure opium.
doodoodododoot
dodoot dodoot doot dadoot doot
doodoodododoot
dodoot dodoot doot dadoot doo doot.
i say my vein lines vibrate like
bass lines when i’m high
and i am at one with lower
pitches and the smoother licks
that life brings. i say that the
cold rain up against my face
prickles down to my spine and
is smile enducing at times.
hey, senator man, church man,
why don’t you let loose?
you wouldn’t think it poison if
you saw how it makes you
more alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment