everytime i sit down to collect my thoughts/
it feels like i'm chasing moths, i neglect my thoughts/
is it the weed? caffine? alcohol or nicotine?/
swimming through my bloodstream fuled by gasoline?/
i remember one time, feeling sober, mostly/
a good buddy said "lets get a space cheese toastie"/
i was like "canibus?...put herion on it/
and then we'll burn a thousand trees like the stereophonics"/
this is drug-bonics, a carefree dictionary/
with which to flip through all substance degrees from a to z/
i remmeber my buddy ambient light on time, telling me/
a hilarious story from commiting a felony/
a couple of caps of mushrooms, he sat on a park bench/
looked down the road, gasped, and proceeded to start sprint/
he got chased by an orange that was 8 feet tall/
for 2 hours straight, no lie, i wont cheat y'all/
maybe this was his brains methodology of telling him/
he needed his vitamins and a dose of penicillin/
he was then chilling, in two words, thats it/
God, i fell out my chair laughing when i heard that shit/

drugs are cool.