i pack jesus' bong with some grandaddypurple and slip myself into heaven through the cloud-cracks in a bad acid trip. i climax in my bedroom by watching the peaks of static on the lcd screen and i tell jesus, "fuck man it's talking to me."
and jesus shrugs it off with a, honey you're just gone right now get outside of your head. i think the strings of your chemical make-up are vibrating too lickety-split for you, you're too connected to the other world right now, baby, come back come back.
if i'm dead for nothing then i'm alive for something.
if i'm high for nothing i'm high for something.