Sooooooooo.. ok, what happens when a klown is in a dark place and you get 'em reeeeaally high, and leave 'em there for their mind to roam while they're trying not to pass out and slip into another dimension? This one walks you through it. It's an almost too honest bit of mind vomit while on a trip describing everything that was going on that time.
Socal.... I don't know how to break that down any more than that. If you've ever been then, yeah, you know. Well, you might not. It's pretty diverse. Anyways, folks have orange trees, lemon trees, and orange trees. Maybe limes.... rare, but now and then. Stuff that goes good in beer. Some of the trees have that white paint on the bottom. Keeps the ants from going up and eating the fruit. So you sit back in a squeaky office chair, with the helicopters in the background, at a glass patio table in a back yard cemented porch, with palm trees hanging over from the neighbors yard or shooting up from the alley hidden by that orange/tan cinder block wall... maybe there's that astro-turf rug with the peeling black plastic stripped edges duct taped to the ground, maybe there's anywheres from two to seven feet of actual grass... they might have to paint them green and rusty cracks in the paint on that pool that ain't seen water in a while that would be dope to sk8 in but them bottles down there wouldn't be dope to trip up and wipe out on, but it's funny anyways... taking a leak is no problem if you're a guy, and the right kinda lady will also hit that wall behind the shed, but watch out for the brooms and cans. Chillin with your bru when a cookie comes around. "There's some smoke in that, be careful." so you do. But, you don't feel it because it's a creeper, so you keep sipping, spark a cig or a black... talkin' about so and so with they fine ass... what shit is that sheeeiiit and what shit is some ol' boulsheit cause, sheeeiiiit.... ain't THAT some shit.... might sound like a horrible song, but when you get to wherever you're going if you can get up you'll be dealing with one of the three... now and then you find a cool view of the mountains, "Hmmm... they put the fire out? Oh wait... there it is." smelling that char in the air. It gives the streets at night a nice snowy look, and has that fireplace smell, but sweeter, not all stale. Pink, the sky fire at night, a pretty interesting pinkish orange set against the glow of that long straight street lined with palm trees hiding the streetlights and that damn helicopter still beaming on fools, for what?... smoke comes around, not from the fire, but it's loud and its fire... and as you start beer number whatever you're thinking, "Am i REALLY going to work later? FffffffffUCK them fools." and you chill. You know when you leave the cops will be looking at you... don't matter what time. You know you can't go thru some spots, down some streets. Then again, 1- you never know, and 2- all depends on how you feel. You know the same fools gonna be on the same stoop in front of the same store when you walk up there to buy another pack. They always up there. Askin for change for a beer. Kids hanging out the window or screaming thru the screen at them section 8 joints across the street. Big ass dog scared to hop over that little ass fence. Hopefully. Hahaha. Fuck that fool too. Highway patrol in residential areas pulling people over for walking, because you're black or mexican. People clutch their purses and walk fast... crossing the street. If you're black or mexican you get a jay walking ticket. Plus you gotta pay some bills, some rent, some this some that..... and you blow that smoke out, and everything hits... you kinda wobble in your body and there's a weird tint, sound's muffled a little.... yup, feeling it.... look over at the weight bench... "nah, not right now"... feeling that acid reflux a little, somebody starts playing some Roy Ayers or something on their phone that you ain't heard in forever.... "That's the jam right there...." and with all the shit that goes on... "I'm good."
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