Doobie in my Pocket

Doobie

Doobie

Doobie

Doobie

I just remembered there's a doobie in my pocket

In my shirt in my suitcase

As I'm standing in line to check into my flight

And I'm trying to decide if I should get out of line

But the line is really long and I start thinking about this song

About the hippie at the festival who gave me the doobie

That is in my pocket in my shirt in my suitcase

That I'm planning on checking to my final destination

Which is another festival with hippies and more doobies

So I don't really need the one that is in

The pocket of my shirt in my suitcase

I wonder if they'll find it

And I wonder what they'll do

Depending on their mood

They'll put it in the pocket of their tsa shirt

Or maybe they're disgruntled

And spark it where they stand

Or maybe they will give it to their friend steve the cop

Who will put it in his pocket

And give it to the rasta

Who works at the starbucks bout 8:30-9

In hoping of continuing of receiving

His free triple tall americana shots on top

That he desperately needs that extra caffeine

So that he can walk the miles and miles of luggage

With his female german shepherd

That he named eva brawn

For the david langley song

Or at least the song that langley does

I'm not really sure

If david langley wrote it

But one thing's is true

Steve the cop he likes it

Or maybe he will simply throw the doobie in the trash

Avoid all the paperwork complete pain in the ass

And this is what is going thru my brain

As I exit the plane

And walk to baggage claim

And pray for a key change

But the suitcase never came

And I start to go insane

As I pace around with visions of guantanamo bay

No need to drool, man

Everything is cool

They found my suitcase on the way to istanbul

They got it just in time

Put it on the next flight

Everything's ok I should be seein it the next day

But once again it never came and once again I go insane

Cos it's time to go and like an hour to the show

Without any traffic

We did not leave in time for it

Now I've got road rage cos it's my time on the stage

I cannot die the sharp pain behind my eye

But I have to stop and smile cos I suddenly realize

That I'm wearing the shirt with the doobie in my pocket

It was never in my suitcase I was wearing it the whole time