Broken Promise

The rizla, the roach, the grinder, the weed,

Picking out stems, the sticks, the seed.

The fold, the roll, the lick and the twist,

My one true flaw that I just can’t resist.

I said to my lady, I would do it no more,

A month has now gone and I’m not feeling so sure.

The promise I made will be broken tonight,

By this rolled up joint that I just need to light.

She’s tucked up in bed, I’m sure she won’t hear,

As I sneak out the door to where she’s nowhere near.

Rip, light, toke and breath in,

The rush to the head, the big Cheshire grin.

Relaxed, mellow, chilled, high,

But the feeling of guilt that just won’t pass me by.

Paranoia will start in five minutes or ten,

Convincing myself I’ll get caught once again.

Obsessed, convinced, that I’m actually an addict,

To this class C drug, oh the feeling of panic.

I finish the spliff, stub it out on the floor,

A sea of emotions as I stand by the door.

I lied to my girl, said I could stop any time,

1 month went by and I’m back getting high.

But it’s only a spliff, not skag or cocaine,

Now I’ll keep smoking until I get caught once again.

I feel at times that I could stop it for sure,

But the urge just comes back, even more than before.

They say that with weed that you cannot get hooked,

But if you believe that, then look at me… LOOK.