No Where To Run Poem by Joub kahuria

From cigar's sons to heroine'
blood stream fueled by ethene.
Bhang, khat are daily meals.
If drugs wont kill me the girls will.

Jerry, lyne, dorry and wish.
I still cant tell which one was real,
but all succeeded in hurting me,
and here i am alive and still.

Plow! ! plow! ! is a normal sound.
Concious died and self will bound,
owning the world but living underground.
Walk in Memphis a new tomb is found.