We, as the Children of the Tracks, must present our case and deliver these facts.
Morning after morning, we walk to the pines, reaping rewards from a treasure far greater than gold mines.
That which we do frees us from care, increases our joy, lessens despair.
Grass, weed, no matter the name, in all but quality it is the same.
Above all we must stand in awe of Thaistick, Lambsbreath, and Panama.
Stop you say, we must not do it. It makes us violent, destructive and, melancholic. Fine ones to talk are you, with your generation of the hardcore alcoholic.
Too many smoke marijuana you say, but before denying us all ask yourself, "Do I use alcohol?"
So upon your closed minds, we turn our backs, for we are your children, the Children of the Tracks.
Patience is a virtue, but virtue has never been one of my redeeming qualities.
[This message has been edited by DreamEvil (edited 07-09-99).]