| Roaches of those forgotten
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| The very foundation of his creation
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| Harvesting (the) THC
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| Of his deceased malpractice victims
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| Inherit has scraps of those who’ve died
|
| His supply will be multiplied
|
| With their has he’ll create
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| Form them from resin, kief coagulates
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| Golems of gathered hashish
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| Soldiers of stoned await injection
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| By Syringes filled with errl
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| The med card you carry
|
| Could mean your life
|
| Suspended animation of wax combined
|
| With their has he’ll create
|
| Form them from resin, kief coagulates
|
| His stoned eyes now awake
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| Born form the oven, baked
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| Sticky fleshed monstrosity
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| Brownish globs maneuvering
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| Ever so stinkily
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| Figure stumbles clumsily
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| Golem sparkling ever crystally
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| One hit of his very fiber
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| Could drive a mortal insane
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| Granules of potent slate
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| Hashish melded with hate
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| The ashtray is his playground
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| Mutating fallen joints together
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| Brown blocks finally complete
|
| Finding a home within the structure
|
| The med card you carry
|
| Could mean your life
|
| Suspended animation of wax combined
|
| Inherit hash scraps of those who’ve died
|
| His supply will then be multiplied |