The Fiends That Come to Steal the Weed of the Deceased - Cannabis Corpse

On a cold slab growing cold in my morgue

Two stoners dead from asphyxiation

An experiment in smoking marijuana gone wrong

Led them to choke on the smoke

I’m sure they thought they could handle it

A 40 ft bong packed with an ounce

Their heads blew off

In my profession I’ve seen a lot of things

But nothing quite like this

But nothing like this…

Searching through their pockets

I hit the jackpot

I pull out a small bag of herb

I stare at all the crystal covered buds

A maddening craving begins to take over

I must taste for myself

The lethal cheeba that brought these young stoners demise

I roll a small joint

The moment the smoke enters my lungs

I lose all sense of reality

Have I now gone crazy?

Strange colors and shapes unlike anything I have ever seen

Make me fall to the floor in a quivering heap

Thoughts and sensations so strange I fear I have gone insane

Am I dead Am I alive?

Panic overtakes me I want this torture to end

I grab a nearby scalpel and ram it into my neck

My white lab coat is quickly turning to red

My sweet release is coming soon when I am dead

When I am dead… When I am dead…