I am a criminal, So you and the papers say. They would put me away For countless nights and days. Tucked away "safe" in jail, All for the choice of herbs I inhale. That they would only have their way...
Yet I am no marauding mobster, No gangster for hire. I smoke in the evenings When daylight is fleeting And withdraw to my rooms to retire. I am no plundering pirate Pillaging your private property. I go about my day, As right as I may, You will find no evil protégée.
I am spoken in the same breath As delinquents and undesirables. The infamously unfavourable, Mire on our tireless society. Well I am tired now, Fatigued. I've grown weary of living In your narrow minded Make believe.
Yet I leave you be. Keep to mine and own. It is you who lights the torches From high deluded throne. It is you who crafted and rounded That perfect stone, Hurled with such indiscrimination Always many, never alone.
Each night now I wonder, When I cross that imaginary line. Such fools we've been, The waste obscene, Who really commits the crime?