BAD TO THE BONE

All of my worldly possessions are gone.
things I collected from hither and yon.
My books, & my plans, & my dreams, - but not sorrow -
It's all I have left - There will be no tomorrow.

A lifetime of dreams culled from here and from there,
all gone from my life - my cupboard is bare.
An eccentric collection, but mine just the same.
I was seeking possessions, not fortune and fame.
All that I wanted was, leave me alone,
But authorities tell you I'm bad to the bone!

Nicotine's bad - it's a terrible thing.
Think of the sickness and death it will bring
A cigarette here, and a chew of snuff there -
Emphysema, and cancer, - It's too much to bear.
Alchohol's worse, or so I have read.
Cirrosis, and driving will both get you dead!

So here I am sitting in jail all alone,
Cause authorities say that i'm bad to the bone.
The victimless crime that I stand accused
was that I grew pot - Marijuana was used.
I never sold any - for me 'twas intended.
Authorities remain truly unbended.

I could have been President, but I inhaled,
and because I was able, I must be jailed.
The deaths that have happened from pot - so inspired,
come only from turf wars. - Gunmen were hired!

The Corporate giants - They all agree -
If they can't make a profit, they'll keep it from me.
Alchohol and tobacco, is where it is at.
These are the things where the profit is fat.
You cannot grow pot, nor can I, alone.
'Cause authorities tell us, it's bad to the bone.

My home has been sold, my belongings are packed
But mostly in dumpsters, & landfills, they're stacked.
The dog and the cat, they went to the pound.
I'm sure going to miss that friendly old hound.

And so then my poeple, I bid you adieu,
and pray that the same fate won't happen to you.
I merely wanted to be left alone.
But authorities think that I'm bad to the bone.