I come from the burnt thigh nation
Rosebud I suppose you could say
I come from the good and bad memories  
Drugs, alcohol. ****, and ****
Everywhere I go I smell ****, sometimes I even smell like it
I live with druggies, alcoholics, people running from the police
I come from abusers, liers, manipulators
**** sellers, drug dealers and overall bad people
I see drunk fights, drunk people all over
Even my own parents offering me a blunt
Or even wax and me being in the "smoking circle”
Maybe if I keep smoking I’d feel like I belong
Or even I’d feel loved for once
I suppose smoking makes you feel loved
While that’s just how I grew up  
Maybe for other people they live normal
If being “normal” means anything on the rez