Pain In Mary Jane
My life revolves around My pain. Sometimes I wish I could smoke maryjane. In hailing and
exhaling, Sitting back relaxing not a care in the world its truthfully unfailing.
The blue, purple and gray smoke filling up the room. No sense of impending doom.
Everything is quiet every thing is calm. So quiet a pin would sound like a thermonuclear
bomb.
My pupils are dilated, my mussels aren't tense. I sit hear with out pain in sudden suspense.
I don't understand I can't fathom why this stuff is illegal when it helps me not to cry.
There so many kinds from skunk to kine form purple haze to Pennsylvania dutch. This is the
kind I smoke way to much.
The doctors they say that narcotics will do. But there all addictive and could kill you
to. When Pot is out there and no one can smoke it. But me I'll put it in a pipe and down I
will choke it.
We got alcohol and cigarettes cocaine and whiskey all of which could potentially kill me.
So maryJane takes a few brain cells But that's what you get when you inhale the THC smells.
God made whisky God made rum God gave us brains to have a green thumb. So grow it high
smoke it up bake it down and drink it up.
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