The quickness of the high

The thought much be obliged

No matter the consequence

This illness makes me sick

Deep inside lost souls

Is the trouble no one knows

The bleak and the weak

Must cater to the meek

With false sensation morality

For the whole of society

Ban the narcotics

Policy is a dick

To all that shall oblige

In the indulgence tonight

While secret mission kills

Those who take have weak wills

Try as the government might

Their view is just slight

For the picture is more than words

It is the forest for the trees and the woods

That this pseudo-epidemic

Becomes a legal form arsenic

Vilify the public

Jail them all systemic

For is justice automatic

Or is liberty an addict

Heal the wounds

The true threat exhumed

From the ruins of shadowed past

This ideal will never last

Many bullets have screamed

Shattered countless dreams

For is it drugs as enemy

Or is it truth in hypocrisy

That we must face

Out biggest disgrace

The addicted man

Is Capital Hill�s fighter of plan

sorry, nothing new, just a poem. enjoy!

posted at 23:10 on 04.19.2004
gone // now // coming

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