HALLUCINOGEN
Poetry’s a sanctuary
A refuge of the mind
Words flow so easily
Sorted into line.
The flotsam and the jetsam
Of all these live-long days
Do not hold a candle to
Dear old purple haze.
Poetry’s a sanctuary
A refuge of the mind
Words flow so easily
Sorted into line.
The flotsam and the jetsam
Of all these live-long days
Do not hold a candle to
Dear old purple haze.
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