My comrades in the late hours have no balance,Blood spills with no sense of affliction, Our eyes and ears crushed our sense of purity, Senseless violence caused by anxious hearts, The long hushed walk home made hours seem like years, Our fatigued feet cure the cataract of rejection, We rest strung out on comparable thoughts, With no reciprocity in our kindred spirit, We are trained to stand firm, never let them know you are rotting within, Exposed tears in your demeanour, means you are a bitch, We awake to a new level of bogus sensibility, The same wasted mental production line, It grants us equal admission to roam these comfortless streets, The ignorance keeps us breathing, Our bodies reconcile again, But our thoughts are exiled from the tangible touch, We all stand bold in our delusion of reality, What happened over the past few years falls in remote mindlessness, We succumb to the snakes that feed on our once authentic hearts, Casual chatter idles by like nothingness, Our eyes collide, Our hearts wail for help, Our vision drifts to the cluttered floor, The flood of displeasure detaches from this familiar encounter, We discard who we really are and return to the contentment of continuity, "Pass the weed cuz"