Make a little money,
Score a little dope,
Run back home to toke up,
Back down that slippery slope.
Run back to the dealer,
Score a little more,
Enough to get blazed,
Lightning through my Roor.
Sit back, enjoy and relax,
Pack another bowl,
Lips down, lungs wide,
Rip a little more.
Light the cone,
Suck it in,
Rip all you can;
Pull the bowl away,
Blow it all out, man.
Vision starts to vibrate,
Slanted eyes appear,
Laughter at it's finest,
Laughing to tears.
Mind starts to wonder,
As you back another bowl,
Can you come to grips to hit this?
Lips down, lungs wide,
As you rip another cone.
Chuck on some music,
Pink Floyd strikes a chord,
High for hours and hours,
Never getting bored.
Flying high amongst the birds,
And jolting in your mind;
Different voices you speak in;
All, one of a kind.
Floyd floats in and out,
While the THC kicks in,
You're fully board baked island,
Can't handle anymore.
Comments
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Wow....lol. I do not smoke, but I know A LOT of people who do and I totally understand every bit of this. Thanks for sharing...lol. Keep up the great write.
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Love it, that is greatness!
Really good write! -
this is crazy
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This poem;
is amazing
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