Three Tablets, Four Times A Day

This is not me justifying my use of cannabis.
This is me worrying about what the doctor gives you.
Do you know what's in all your doc's painkillers?
I know the damage all God's herbs can do.

This is not me saying that I'm worried,
Because you're all grown up with a steady wage.
But that mind won't find happiness with Valium,
Or those new pills that seem all the rage.

Yes, you can cite all my previous problems,
I'll admit they were there, and still they lurk.
But the psychoses are all well nailed down now,
And their maintenance is always hard work.

But this is about you, not about me.
This is about how you've let yourself slide,
Count the friends that we've shied from,
Then count the friends that fell by the wayside.

Because this road has a darker verge, I promise,
Littered with needles and pipes.
But this road leads to emancipation,
For society's less addictive types.

So sit back in your armchair and listen,
Raise your feet on that litter-strewn stool.
Hand over those brown childproof containers,
And please don't think me a fool.

The pain that you feel can be countered,
And your youth's a crutch you can't see.
You don't need prescriptions, you want them,
They're your piteous sanctuary.

Time may not heal, but it will certainly teach
About the world, and the riches in reach.