Sleeping Rough

I raked in my baccy pouch to find the makings of a toke and pretty soon I was riding that sweet magic smoke stretching like a giant a million miles high switching off stars in the night sky riding a dragon full of joy and desire every emotion blazing like a raging raging fire but all too soon of course came that moment when my magic smoke dropped me back into the real world again where my sleeping bag was far too thin and old the concrete was hard and that shop doorway too cold