There is nothing
worse
than smoking a stoge alone
knowing the white paper wrapped
around leaves is a Hearse.
Dying slowly with a friend
feels almost alright
but when the smoke
billows out at night
a locomotive with no incentive
you get pensive
and wish that cancer would develope
dropping you in an early grave.
The stench of burning bodies
isn't a story
with a life lived next to a crematory
the sizzle of the cigarette
akin to the sound of
bacon cooking in the morning.
No warning signs
from a petered out mind
cracked spine causing
an acid flash back
fluorescent butterflies
peek over the guitar strings
stinging like beautiful bees
while the trees take deep breaths
singing
"Breathe child...breathe"
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 4:52 AM UTC
There is nothing
worse
than smoking a stoge alone
knowing the white paper wrapped
around leaves is a Hearse.
Dying slowly with a friend
feels almost alright
but when the smoke
billows out at night
a locomotive with no incentive
you get pensive
and wish that cancer would develope
dropping you in an early grave.
The stench of burning bodies
isn't a story
with a life lived next to a crematory
the sizzle of the cigarette
akin to the sound of
bacon cooking in the morning.
No warning signs
from a petered out mind
cracked spine causing
an acid flash back
fluorescent butterflies
peek over the guitar strings
stinging like beautiful bees
while the trees take deep breaths
singing
"Breathe child...breathe"
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