Sorry, dude. I must admit I find it more than pathetic That you experience life With sorrow about some of it That you don’t have a drug To take to help appreciate Something that is amazing And really needs no chemical To help you exaggerate What is really going on And pretend it is better Or somehow transcendent As if water can be wetter.
But it is as if time warped And I have gone backward To talk to myself about it And then zapped forward To see what a saturate What a wet-brained fool I was back then, it’s true. I was a tin-plated tool. I measured my existence One dime bag at a time Giggling with stoner friends About my forays into crime; Selling backs of skunk **** When nobody else had any Good stuff or bad stuff. And I was the one with plenty.
Walking through Hollywood With stoner friends and flakes Singing as we stumbled along About life and what it takes To satisfy *** hounds those days. ***, drugs and rock and roll And pride in our half-witted ways. Learning how to roll pinners Of a buddy’s stash on the sly While he was taking a whizz And couldn’t ask me why. Learning how to properly treat The remaining sticks and stones And confiscating the roaches When the others left them alone.
That was the cannabis coalition The Sativa Society at its height. We worked in the daytime and Got ******* most every night. And sooner or later, on the job In the bathroom or on the roof. I didn’t think of it addiction. I still needed further proof. I needed to try to buy **** From a government man I met. Fortunately I bailed on that Before adding one more big regret. Life has gotten better since then No more outside dependence. I quit before the drugs became The entire focus of my existence.