kicking men disguised as drapes
(your face is making distorted shapes)
i try to scream but the sound escapes...
through the hole i dug in my leg.
this weed to me tastes more like grass
(blow in my eyes like fogging up glass)
the high we have now we will only surpass...
but only if you want to take another.
double time,12 hours or more
(do feel we fell upon a pill hardcore)
maybe we shouldn't have tried to score
as many pills as we did
unable to read and unable to write
(it might help if we turn on a light)
it's not much better and afraid that my sight
is being stolen by the man in the drapes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem