Alan Hull
Alan Hull
Alan Hull
Alan Hull
Alan Hull
Alan Hull
Alan Hull
Alan Hull
Alan Hull
Alan Hull
Alan Hull
Alan Hull
Alan Hull
Alan Hull
I rolled a joint and crushed it on the floor
Woe is me, I'll never roll a joint no more
I took some speed and ran 'round in circles
A thousand miles, a thousand miles or maybe even more
I took a trip to find me a better self
But I only found I'd merely lost all common sense
Marijuana, why do you want me
Constantly ? Very close indeed to me
If you drive me mad, you'll make mother very sad
And she'll maybe even cry, she'll maybe shade a tear
When she sees my coffin go gliding by