Just an excuse:
Weilding a paper machete
Tearing holes through your
Jungle, all alone,
Searching for the Aztec Ruins
Flashing in your dreams,
But finding nothing,
Nothing but the ashes
From your blunts
In a purple, porecelain clown head ashtray.
You're Praying real life is all a lie,
So you can be stoned without remorse.