One or the Other

About drug addiction and also the need for love

I'll set fire to a city of THC just to feel like I belong.
I'll burn people, houses, lives, for what I need. It's wrong.

Why do I have to spend more time with a lighter in my hand
than with a girl in my arms.

The feeling is outrageous and people are starting to see
that what they wanted as a friend, a family, a lover, was never me.

I'll hide my secret and one day everyone will know.
They'll stop, point, and pain the person lighting the bowl.
They have never seen a green-phene or a pot head like me.
Their perfect lives interrupted by my needs for the weed.

And the reputation of a drug addict never seems to let down.
Lost, hopeless, scared, all in the face of a non-sympathetic life.

Maybe sympathy can save a soul, lost to the substances that life holds.
Because it is a disaster relief. It hits the ground and rolls.
It gives you the chance to get back up again without ever being told.

However, I see no hope for myself. My heart has been scorched white from fire.
Lit and cast to ashes with only a glimpse of affection and desire.
For I have never wanted anything more than a lover and a light.
To torch a town of trichomes and consume her beauty tonight.

To cast my arm around her, holding a lighter and a pipe.

Author's Note

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