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
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