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Glad you like it.
This is from just now:
What do you think of my ganja green?
Your ganja green jumps on my scene,
it's so obscene, we can't be seen.
It grew from a bean on a daily routine.
Should I have forseen we'd be burning this green?
Should I start the machine to brew coffee beans?
"Forget that caffeine, hit this to your spleen,"
so says the May Queen, "...green is the vaccine."
The smoke is so clean, it makes my soul serene,
the taste is cusine, with aroma so keen,
gives drymouth so mean, gotta chug my canteen,
Hairs all tangerine, one puff makes em' lean
like a lightweight teen caught in a smoke screen.
Higher than a jumping bean stuck on a trampoline,
inside a time machine, displayed on a widescreen.
Brain turns to gelatine, regressing towards the mean,
Eyes red like grenadine, time blown to smithereens.
That's how I've seen all your ganja green,
The buds you neatly preen, while you're wearing jeans,
Your smile may intervene in my favorite dream,
Light within will beam, all my mind will teem,
Holding you in high esteem, not a creepy stalker scheme.
Maybe you might stream a reply to my theme?
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