I never cease to be amazed by the red flags raised from the smoke swag daze.
And at least by this point my last joint has dulled my senses
put privacy fences around my eyes to hide the lies. Yet im still surprised by an obvious truth:
My indescretion has surpassed my youth. Now I should be a man with his hand in the world
But I'm at home with a joint and a drugged out whore.
And the more I think about it the less I'm amazed
And I still can't stop these smoke swag days.
That it didn't stop there is no surprise to me
I've done (insert illicit substances and incorporate into rhyme scheme)
So I'm fiendin' now, always lookin' for more
Takin' (yeah more here) with a drugged-out whore
Listen to me, like I'm better than her.
When we speak our lies, the both of us slur
I can't believe its come down to this
Savin' a jar with your clean piss
I think I'm rhetorically gifted so I take another hit
and metaphorically sift my life to straight shit
And I'm thinkin' now that I'm fianlly dazed
Its time to stop these smoke swag days.
So how do I stop, I'm forced to ask. Thinking it over a shot from the flask.
The answer I found is both clear and opaque.
I need you here for the good of my sake.
My problem is self-love or the lack thereof
All I've ever wanted was one real hug.
Just a kind word or two or three
Is all I need to set me free.
Only then can I be amazed, and able to stop these smoke swag days.