Wasted Angels

Howard Marks and God Almighty Shared a spliff, and had a whitey Then had the munchies, and a bong Annoying Peter with the pong By which time it was far too late To frisk young Howard at the gate God, seeing Peter’s consternation Outlined the process of creation How on day three he made the weed With every other tree and seed To raise in some, apotheosis And test some others, with psychosis Now, Howard’s stash was pretty small And didn’t last too long at all So, as he didn’t see the point Of heaven’s joys without a joint He got his bong, and skins, and tin Chucked all the roaches in the bin And, following a wicked smell Went wafting off to score, in hell St. Peter looked above and groaned As all the angels flew past stoned by Gail