[4 / 1 / ?]
Quoted By:
I wrote a poem while I was stoned.
Today must be a special day,
Birds are chirping, skies are gray,
As you awake to this world of gold,
Think about the book you hold,
What it means, for who it's meant,
Confess your sins, you must repent,
And when the collection comes your way,
You realize life isn't always sprinkles on a sunday.
Today must be a special day,
Birds are chirping, skies are gray,
As you awake to this world of gold,
Think about the book you hold,
What it means, for who it's meant,
Confess your sins, you must repent,
And when the collection comes your way,
You realize life isn't always sprinkles on a sunday.