Upon my desk, a tome so dense,
Its cover whispers, “You’ll make no sense.”
But as I toke, big clouds do roll,
Suddenly, it speaks to my very soul!
Equations dance like funky beats,
I see the math behind the meats!
What once was scribbles, a cryptic maze,
Now shines with clarity through my hazy gaze.
Chapters flash like neon signs,
“Correlation? Dude, that’s just our minds!”
Theories bloom like flowers in spring,
Even Newton’s laws start to sing and swing.
History yells, “Yo, check this out!”
“Civilizations?” I nod, “No doubt!”
The pyramids? Just giant stoner pads—
Built to chill while avoiding the fads.
Oh, physics, math—feel my vibe!
In this state, I meet my new tribe.
Textbook wisdom? Who could foresee,
That high as a kite, I’d finally be free?
But alas, the high fades, reality pangs,
The words jumbled up, like loose old hangs.
Yet one little truth stays brightly alive:
Sometimes you need a lil’ lift to thrive.
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
