It is to be 4: 20, and my hand quivers at th sight i have commited and shall forever know
i can taste the trouble on my lips, and with a failed swipe must remember
the red and the blue will come not to far from now, have made my vice into a foe
ashamed of the neccesary evil i did, i am not, but still i quiver
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem