Think and appeal to the masses, drink and sin to further dilude your clouded minds
break free if you dare become my god my object of reflection
connect my mind far into the past, let me channel the greats so their advice I can take
let me learn his ways of wicked poetry
A pipe of ancient texture found smoking on his grave
Take a chocolate ride into realms of thought where barriers of self consciousness no longer exist. Find yourself soaring, far above the atmosphere, where angels and demons co-ignite into bursting electric energy. A head in the clouds where things rarely get along. Trees of sin and shrubs of guilt, whatta’ garden this has become.