Keene 420 smoke-in
We’ve got a hookah, six glass pipes, Eight joints, and someone’s two-foot bong. Whoever said these celebrations wouldn’t last sure got it wrong. Another Keene 420 smoke-in. Something burning—smells like rope. The cop drives by and flips his visor up, Because last bust, he was the dope… Some unnamed townies Sell their brownies Wearing smiling masks of V. There’s Rich and Noah, They sure go a Ways to make us safe and free. Another Keene 420 smoke-in. Smoke ’em if you’ve got ’em, friends! We’ll civilly be disobedient Till their futile war on drugs ends. Who’s got a minute, please, To mourn lost liberties? Most tragic of Remember whens. No one who’s innocent Should fear the government The State should fear the citizens. Another Keene 420 smoke-in. Burning issues, scoring points. Another Keene 420 smoke-in. Making ashes of the joints. Another Keene 420 smoke-in…
Sung to the tune of “Pleasant Valley Sunday
Copyright © 2009 by Sam A. Robrin or whoever the hell it is who writes these things. Go ahead and use it (Hey, I lifted the melody!), but if you make a little money on it, I want some!