The Weed Express

July will never 
Be the same
Now that I've boarded
The Weed Express Train

Just like January
It's kind of long
My new found love
In this summer song

The noon day sky
Is best done
In the middle of July

The harvest weeds
Sky cerulean blue
Is what you need
With dried out weeds

Its not something
That you smoke
It's something
That pokes

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