Mescaline City Blues #3

I smoke marijuana every chance I get
I sit in my house for days on end,
drinking mescaline and staring beyond my mind

When I go to Raves I get drop a triple stack
and never get laid

My mind is made up there's going to be trouble
my news feed is killing my soul

My psychoanalyst in LA County Jail
thinks I'm perfectly fine, really I'm just ok
(would this line get me laid?)

I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations
Bickering with the dark night of soul
Body turns as heavy as a stone
Reality has grown cold

I don't want to kill my soul
I don't want to kill my soul
But everyday a lil bit of it dies

Spark the bowl, roll the next blunt
I smoke marijuana every chance I get