• So we are all within a substance,
    The snow in the mountains, the grass in the plains, the needles in the haystacks,
    What does this mean?
    Drugs are the way.
    We are finally content.
    These feelings of agony and pain,
    The images of fists, and kicks, and screams leave our heads.
    These images of an abyss swallowing are futures are gone.
    Those annoyances of precaution left my mind.
    Man,
    We are all under use,
    Are we cool? Are we free?
    No.
    We are but air.