Stoned
Malcolm Worthy
About someone (who may or may not be myself) who may have smoked a little too much of a particular herb in the past.
As I sit here alone
With my hand on the bong
And I light another match
And I pull another cone
I don’t know where I will be
When I turn 30
Cause the air that I breathe is making me stoned
It’s making me stoned
When I stare at the floor
All the patterns I see
In the carpet are real
But they’re not always there
Well they’ve come back tonight
And they’re stronger this time
Cause the air that I breathe is making me stoned
It’s making me stoned
I awake, I feel weird
So I smoke another cone
Sometimes time needs slowing down
And reality feels wrong
Have I lost who I am?
I don’t know who I am
Cause the air that I breathe is making me stoned
It’s making me stoned
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