Poems about the smoke.
Smoker Junk
Seeds and Stems may break my bank but buds will never kill me.
Weed is a plant it comes from the ground. If God didn't like it it wouldn't be found.
You really think your sly,
you keep judging me why?
You can't even tell when I'm High!
I don't think I can fly,
driving high I won't even try,
I shore would love a piece of pie!
Smoked my self silly still didn't die!
I reach the bottom of my bag and I sigh!
Since I am High,
I am not going to lie,
I really, really wanted to cry!
Return to the Index
