PCP and not tell me. I heard the devil that night speak to me. Then the dude in the front seat who had it turns to me and says "do you think I'm the devil?" It was precisely how I was feeling and thinking about this person at the time.
To this day I have no idea how he new what I was thinking unless I was hallucinating- but I swear I didn't say a word I was just listening to my hard pound through my chest.
It brings me back to this question though- didn't they taste the dank in those pot brownies? They don't taste like a regular brownie for sure.
Like when that blunt was laced- it tasted mentholly and wrong- I wish I would've stopped toking sooner than I decided to- scary night for me (no hospital though).
In the beginning of a change the patriot is a scarce man, and brave, and hated and scorned. When his cause succeeds, the timid join him, for then it costs nothing to be a patriot.
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