I.

Hopping out with no shoes no saddle

No horse, no cattle

No splattering shatter

Oh I've been

Screaming “morphine” in my dreams

Alone on the pavement by exit 53

II.

And I'm pissed to leave, and I'm blitzed as we

Are worthy of just serving our own needs with

Chemicals in plastic, sedatives, I'm past it

Mask it, hash flask it, pass the glass gasket

III.

With a Pax in my face and a fist in the other

My clothes stank like dank, fuck I'm just like my mother

I'm white as my brothers, we drank wine, we had fun

She chose pills, I said “I’m done”

I.

If it rhymes it gets written down

I got lots of words I've been shitting out

I've been spitting loud as my throat allows

All while cutting substances into mounds

II.

Like I'm Max Mermelstein

Pax burning, we stay high as these stacked burners

In Saul's office, with a Sawzall, on the hunt for rough diamonds on call

III.

It's a Far Cry from the ideal life

Tar eyed with the high heeled strife

Marred by all the stars in the light bulbs that be keeping up nights

IV.

Onion patches harvest brown and white

Tried to jump but I'm afraid of heights

Yet high as kite, I've been dying all night

But I stay alive purely out of spite

V.

But maybe I'll find a way out of this coffin

I'm fighting with flight and my answer is often

To make hate while the sun is wafting aromas

Of cannabis flowers, just flipped to 12 hours

VI.

So it only gets worse, leaving here in a hearse

Delusions of grandeur and statements so terse

Nobody ever cared, not the second or first time

The boy who cried suicide stood on his words

VII.

I've a long ways to go before I make it home

I'm a little bit manic and not even stoned

But the Seroquel paints such a beautiful tone

Across the canvas that is my stupified dome

I.

Rotating the image, I'm fucking DREADing the quiddich

They're catching snitches, doing vicious, die for colors, we missed riches

II.

But I'm up on these bitches, I'm suiting up, tearing stitches

No pussies boy, we got switches

Strapped up for Baghdad. Which is it

III.

Are we fighting to live or we dying high with a shiv

Up in our soul we know it's right

And we're always down for a fight

IV.

Junk holds me loose but oh so tight

My heart is black, my dope is white

My soul is smack, fent is my eye

Without it I can’t see. Prepared to die

V.

She sold me to the debt collectors

Chemical regret correctors

Find me in the high seas

Can't help it I'm just a pisces

VI.

But a cancer? Shit, I might be

My “I can'ts“ are growing nightly

Answering my phone so whitely

Falling from great heights, Gone Postal

VIII.

Serviced in one-seven

Never made it to heaven

I'm living dead or in debt and were we to ever forget

IX.

About everything we regretted

And everything, then we'd see

I'm as far from suicidal as I'll ever be

X.

But I'm a scar on my denial

I'm a blister on the beast

I couldn't muster half a smile

I'm praying that facing east

XI.

I want to be the one you think of when you try to think of me

I'd like to beat the opposition before taking a knee

I.

Why can't we make peace a fucking crime?

Don't make sense but it does make dimes

I know it's fucked up but for the profits I want war

II.

Some day maybe we'll pack up and leave

And they'll say, “private prisons are slavery”

Afghanistan was burning, the world kept on turning

She gave me everything, but all I want is war

III.

Yeah I torched this whole desert

But it won't make up for 9/11

Bombs are our export, delivered by force

It's just good business, I want war

IV.

Some day maybe we'll pack up and leave

And we'll send bombs to brown kids by proxy

The business is booming, the trash fires are fuming

She won't do anything, I'll always hate for her

V.

Some day maybe we'll pack up and leave

And they'll say, “private prisons are still slavery”

Afghanistan was burning, the world kept on turning

She gave me everything, but all I want is war

All I want is war

All I want is war

All I want is war

I.

I've got no future I suppose besides this grow

My green thumb pointing out, as my glandular head blows

Tomorrow I'll be gone, but I'll see you soon I'm sure, still dabbing delta and reclaim with this propane torch

II.

And I've started to believe that these websites don't lead anywhere

And I've started to believe that I don't really care

Because if I stop scrolling the way I'm living might catch up

And I don't wanna be around when that day comes

III.

Share with me MP3s in 320 at least, but more like

FLACs by the sack and smack to keep me far behind

Though I'm spinning wheels, my pace

In this never ending race

Is slow as the molasses in my leg

IV.

And I've started to believe that this internet is long since dead

And I'm starting to believe, that all the words I've bled

Are cataloged and used to train an algorithm, rhythm stolen from the past misgivings in my head

V.

Just get me anywhere

Just me out of here just get me anywhere but here

VI.

(Cut to From Here To Utopia bridge)

On the night that I burn my last grow

I'll be stanking so loud that the world will know

And I'll be singing

Yeah I'll be singing we are free

VII.

As the electricity, tents, fans, and seeds, they never come cheap

I know it's hard to trim it down to size

But promise me we'll always try

I.

I'm a pastafarian, ain't got no car

And I'm dying higher than the sea level is tomorrow

And I'm tired, fussed with nothing but the god's honest truth

Like every day we waste we get further from youth

II.

And she said “all you ever do is listen to Phish

Half stoned and slackjawed, but yay no slit wrist!”

One show at a time, commit to nothing but crime dramas

And I'm down for the climb. I'm a

III.

Class traitor, cash hater, choke

Down letters, in debt or, rope

Can't cope, I can't maintain

I'm the personification of an old hash stain

IV.

On your favorite couch

Where I wasted time

With you, don't wanna be a painter I just want to be fine

Made a bed and ignored what they said was mine

A culture in decline

I.

I don't know man, I'm probably on the list at this point

I'm all bark no bite, grow skunk so I don't shoot guns

But I'm still a prop in Satan's war of god damned attrition

I could do anything but shut the fuck up and listen

II.

I feel like the deep state’s putting fentanyl in all my drugs

They released the spider mites that plagued my stanking buds

It's the 5 eyed gaze at my words and haze, is that a flex?

I lost sauce in the gutter, but what the fuck can I bum like me expect?

III.

So if you know someone who really wants to die

You should add them to the list with you and I

Of those not ambitious enough to follow through

With these words tatted on our souls till we're found cold bloated and blue

IV.

Shoot me in the face, but first just let me pack my motherfucking vape so I can blast my ass to space. Just

Bill me for my sins, put a number on it, I'm gone, shits a wrap, pay them to clean

V.

Just slit my perfect throat with the knife that I gave you when I told you I loved you in my home

Stab me in the back and twist it with the anger of

Every single time I made you mad

VI.

Have you heard the story of the guy, who decided not to try?

He figured failing was just easier. And I've been getting by. And I hope

That I'm not slated for that seventy two hour hold

The round is hot, the barrel cold, I'm nothing but a passing floating

VII.

Garbage patch in the pacific

Nah, let's be specific

I've been coasting on the fumes that emanate throughout my tomb

VIII.

Originated from her womb, that bitch she set me up. One-two,

Got me hooked up on the morphine since the day that I turned 17.

IX.

Three-four, I got a lot in store, I got a half a gram in my shoe

Half hash and tar, no cash, no car, and no ECP in my arm

X.

I'm plastic, I'm so past it

I've been asleep in this rotting casket

XI.

Piatella in the past participle, precipitation of full

Spectrum of the cannabin-buynoid bud up in the up in thyroid. Mud

Stuffed in my high grade tirade of alkaloids before the thud

I.

Born into an affluent land,

Baked out of my mind

With a face like, what's hurting? And a bass thumping none of the time

II.

Oh well the bong is always bubbling, and my joints are all tight

And if my doses they were doubling

Then I might sleep through the night

With headphones

III.

If I was Bob Marley I’d say “could you be loved”

If I was at a Phish concert I would do lots of drugs

If I was Pat the Bunny I'd hold on for my life

And if I wasn't booming cans I would be drowned in all my strife

If I was in Bali I’d eat shit right off a tree

And if reddit gave college credit then I would have my degree

IV.

If I finally pop son, you know what I'd do

Having another mental breakdown, probably be found cold and blue

But if I die I'll be forgotten, a dead torrent of a man

But still my mouth is filled with cotton, with more “I cant's” than “I can’s”

V.

I want a lover but I still wanna die.

I want a lizard, but the lizards they have died

And I want a bag of fire work but I can't afford

To lose all of my hair just like the chairman of the boards

With couchtour nowadays it's clear as can be

That's Mike's bass is thumping and Trey's better clean

VI.

But I just, want sleep.

For the night and for eternity,

516 to the 518, when you're Lost In The Sauce you get

Endless self hate

VII.

In the handicapped spot of Chase Manhattan bank, I was baking out my mom's car, oh well that cop gave me a ticket but I'm sure he knows where he can stick it.

Cannabis suppositories are my god.