[ Featuring ART-DIRECTOR ]
Getting so high I'm bout to meet Jesus
Nother night I feel uneasy
Dizziness settling in this night outside I'm freezing
Cold, feeling weak but smoking strong
Willingly die in a week
It is enough to become old
On the streets I'm doing things I couldn't think I can afford
So discreet, I'm moving still I wouldn't mind
If I got caught
In the backseat of the ford smell of filthy death
And sweet whiff of pine cones
Life's scheming new f*ckin cons
It's constantly getting worse
Hey, Chippie, uh
Why you look so trippy, uh
Wild enough to creep in
Diggings where the floor's not creaky, uh
Catch me thinking somewhere high
I thought I was cheeky, uh
For achieving suicide but I am still thinking
If I had a farmland somewhere up in weeping Chipping Norton
Hundred acres sprinkled with the weed seed - that would be important
Drop the anchor among hippies, chippies wherever in Scotland
F*ckin anger causin heebiejeebies whenever I'm sober
Hey, Chippie
Why you look so trippy
Wild enough to creep in
Diggings where the floor's not creaky
Catch me thinking somewhere high
I thought I was cheeky
For achieving suicide but I am still thinking
Of the ways of getting killed
Hard to feel the same thrill
That's been building up my mind
The desire to get higher
That has tied up my hands tight
In a knot
To survive
I would not
Rather let the habit make the addict's breathing f*ckin stop
