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Now if memory serves -- as it often does -- then it seems to me I'm suffering from a slight case of death, or that I probably should be. What I'm seeing around me don't exactly add up, but it doesn't spell out drugs, either. I've had the stuff, cooked the stuff, sold it. Good and bad, in an assortment of flavors, colors and consistencies. And even when I wasn't dealing the shit and could stand to go a little harder I've never stepped out of my room and not found the same old thing on the other side. Never got gadgets before, either.
I also don't trip my own death. So I figure the two ought to add together.
Could be wrong. Can't say my head ain't a bit fucked up right now, but I'm damn that me being dead has to be the end result. Trouble is I've got three different endings tangled up in my brain, and I can't rightly tell you which one was real.
So level with a poor sinner: Is this heaven, hell, or none? Who was right? The Christians, the Atheists, the whackjob flower people or all of the fucking above or nobody at all?
I also don't trip my own death. So I figure the two ought to add together.
Could be wrong. Can't say my head ain't a bit fucked up right now, but I'm damn that me being dead has to be the end result. Trouble is I've got three different endings tangled up in my brain, and I can't rightly tell you which one was real.
So level with a poor sinner: Is this heaven, hell, or none? Who was right? The Christians, the Atheists, the whackjob flower people or all of the fucking above or nobody at all?
