In a haze I wandered through the fields of green,
With munchies on my mind and my soul feeling keen.
But oh, dear friends, listen close and hear,
The drawbacks of stoner life, I now hold dear.
First, there’s the battle with the bag of chips,
A crunchy foe that tempts with salty lips.
One minute I’m classy, with style so divine,
The next I’m in crumbs, like a human cheese line.
“Oh, what did I do with my keys?” I do fret,
They’re lost in the couch, with a rogue cigarette.
I search high and low, in the depths of my mind,
Only to find that I’ve got two left feet combined.
Conversations, oh those lofty, lofty talks,
As I ponder the third dimension of rocks.
But when I speak, it’s a garbled mess,
“Is a hotdog a sandwich?” I’ll surely confess.
Time becomes fluid, like a warm summer breeze,
Five minutes or hours, who really can see?
I blink and it’s midnight, the clock laughs and mocks,
While I’m still on a loop about talking to socks.
And when I decide to be social, oh boy,
I bring my sweet self, but I’m not much employ.
I giggle too loud, forget what to say,
And leave my friends wondering, “Did he blend into clay?”
So here’s to the stoner, with spirit so bright,
Who dances through life—what a glorious sight!
But if you choose this leafy embrace, heed my call:
Watch out for the crumbs, and the time that can stall.
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
