The Dankness Rises
From the album: High tales of tokeshire
In the alleys of Tokeshire, whispers spread fast,
“The crops still grow—though the ban was cast.”
From gnome-run farms to pixie dens,
The smell of kush was back again.
A rebel bard strummed his lute of flame,
Singing songs that no guard could tame.
He rhymed of freedom, buds, and bliss—
And sold edibles shaped like the king’s fist.
The dankness rises, puff by puff,
Through castle walls and prison stuff.
Even the rats rolled joints in pairs,
And smoked them under royal stairs.
A priest lit incense—“Just for God,” he claimed,
But his sermon got way too chill to be explained.
Now banners wave with leaves so green…
The high tide’s coming. Long live the scene.