Standing at the door
Wearing all that glory,
and a bottle of tequila in your hand;
Offer me the chalice,
Of all the poison you behold,
In return of a small talk, I demand.
Take my herb,
and heal yourself;
That's all I really want.
Baby, tell me
if love was a drug,
Would you be my dealer?
And give me the drug;
That never fails to get me high!
But mustn't I tell you,
O' beautiful sorceress! You're the magic that still works on me each time.
Just like the strain in my vanilla pipe;
No other drugs were ever required.
YOU ARE READING
rhythm of the soul
RandomCollective of short poems and quotes, scribbled by the higher-self. High hopes come with no credence " The world can be healed with love and herb" My hippie fellas, shine bright, just the way you are. Change; not the slightest bit. Paradise will...
