So here I am, sitting in the basement smoking my reefer, as usual. I do not know how anyone could logically refute the beneficial properties of this drug. They must be numb square-shaped idiots.
And I need to get a job, make something of myself, of this college degree that has placed me in an entirely different realm of societal debt. I think the real problem is my attitude...my damn existentialist mantra says "Why the fuck bother?"
**Takes another hit off the hash pipe**
You know, when I think about it, it's a real shame that I was not born musically 'gifted' or 'inclined'. I could definitely compose some real interesting shit with the darkness of my thoughts and savviness for smooth sounds.
What am I? How do I define me?
