Oh I smoke, but not crack coke,
This some artist quality weed.
I need to diffuse tensions sometimes,
A tensed mind unkind indeed.
Ideas may look bright sans light,
But in the din of kin it's blurred.
This weed is some strong shit,
When stoned my speech is slurred.
Ganja it's called here in this part,
My slum in the city boondocks.
I'm drunk on booze helps the snooze,
I prefer served on the rocks.
Then I take a calcutta bus, greasy pus,
Drooling from wounds hanging on.
A smelly poot, feet on someone's foot,
A tin full of bengali biligerent brawn.
This mid-october I sure ain't sober,
The heat fucking my ass.
I drink to think with weed in sync,
Hot the air I pass as gas.
It's a local hooch, I mooch,
God bless in me the holy goon.
I'm getting an idea, it's in my ass,
Must pull it out real soon.
When I can't drink, dry days stink,
The world becomes an insufferable hole.
In it a man suffers a hard turd,
Burning woes of a gaped asshole.
Every morning thus, I shit acid pus,
The diarrhea a partner in crime.
I smell mango my diarrhea tango,
Popping the pious with slime.
I feel upset when shit unset,
The sun rising in the south.
The holy fucks leadership sucks,
I direct my shit in their mouth.
Gung-ho can certainly do but they can't,
Unscrupulous and venal assholes.
The Indian race gets shit on face,
Morbid the many holy souls.
I get used a bit confused,
The masks of a grinning head.
My friends only fat infants,
Who like me live on mommy's bed.
It ain't right these folks not bright,
Under the super holy sky.
A bengali man does what he can,
Shits in pots the thoughts like I.
Change this and that after the fact,
But wipe your hole you must.
Cleanliness is like godliness,
Otherwise the shit forms crust.
Not fully foul my soul,
I shake my fist in jest.
The rituals of the day fucks ass,
Most people here just pest.
