| Chronic fucking, chronic bud
|
| Increased libido
|
| Engorging the flesh pipe
|
| Smoke cum so green
|
| One spurt is not enough
|
| You crave his warm weed inside your vag
|
| Nine months have passed
|
| Since that carnal night
|
| You have tried to forget
|
| Despite the pot, you cannot
|
| You have become a human bong
|
| For this weakiling fetus to grow inside
|
| Putrid fetid infected womb
|
| Too lazy to be born
|
| On the hospital bed legs spread open
|
| Forceps now become roach clips
|
| Swollen placenta, sullen cervix
|
| Dilated
|
| Now the blunted shall be born
|
| Legs spreading further
|
| Legs spreading further
|
| The child runs out, drenched in bongwater
|
| Blunted at birth
|
| No longer there, mind decimation
|
| Brain obliteration, thoughts warped
|
| Reality that once has been changed
|
| Into a cursed gestation
|
| His cord remains attached
|
| His bong has not yet cached
|
| His eyes they teem with pus
|
| His mouth a weedy crust
|
| His tongue is burnt to shit
|
| His nose still smells the hit
|
| His teeth are black with ash
|
| Reeking of the hash
|
| Small green deformed head on baby’s body
|
| Doomed to die sonn
|
| Crawling back towards the womb
|
| You have become a human bong |