Testo The Vortex - Baba Brinkman, Dizraeli

The Vortex

I smoked up at fourteen with romantic notions\nOf poets across the Atlantic Ocean doped up on morphine\nI was hoping the stuff would be an infinite source of dreams\nI wanted to see if it was a portal to the immortal stream\nOr just a weed; so I sowed the seeds\nHoping there was more to see, and with more attempts\nTo score a glimpse into the vortex of hemp’s\nFemale sex organs, I was just more convinced\nOf the transformative potential of my distorted senses\nWith the doors of perception open everything gets more intense\nEvery chore is an adventure and trip to the store a quest\nTo explore foreign destinations, or a test\nOf orientation, if you forget your address\nMy objective was to lower stress\nBut the side effects were quite the opposite\nWith blood clots in my eye sockets\nMy optical field was myopic\nShort sighted, I would often fly off topic\nPreoccupied by the microscopic\nI entirely lost sight of my higher project\nPlus I was exhausted; time for a diagnostic\nFrom Betty Ford; I guess I was ready for it\nBefore I knew it I was twenty-four\nAnd I couldn’t think of any reason to do it any more\nDr. Greenthumb, why’d you stop my dreams comin'?\nNumbin' me slow, leavin' my mind stream stumblin'\nDrainin' me dry of my deep need to be somethin'\nPut my feet up and I’m a slave to weed burnin'\nCurled up in a fetal position, a baby on bean-bag\nEvil visions flutter ‘round me as I lean back\nSeein' spiders creeping in the shadows on the ceiling\nInsects steal inside my neckline, I can feel ‘em\nEven my friends are mocking me, I can hear it\nIn their vocal tones, social misfit losing hope alone\nI need a cup of tea, and a blanket to cover me\nFeelin' uppity; can’t catch the subtleties\nBut for some reason I wrap up another reefer and suddenly\nMy head is muddled utterly; «Fuckin' freak»\nMy friends are muttering now; my words are tumblin' out\nAll wrong, mouth closing and opening\nWhere is this rhyme supposed to be goin'?\nWhat’s wrong with Rowan?\nDr. Greenthumb, why’d you stop my dreams comin'?\nNumbin' me slow, leavin' my mind stream stumblin'\nDrainin' me dry of my deep need to be somethin'\nPut my feet up and I’m a slave to weed burnin'