Trey parked on the front lawn. Threw bike on the grass, smoked under the deck with a toke puff and pass, we’d drink in the house with brew after brew, day after day noon until noon.

One day he came round and showed us a bag, of seeds he had swiped off his deadbeat dad, we looked in awe as he said he would grow,

Enough weed for us all and all of our Bros,

He spent a whole summer growing seeds in the greens,

He ploughed up the soil and made a ravine,

He showed but a few,

A handful at most,

But word spread through town,

He couldn’t help but to boast,

One day we went by and ploughed the green from the earth,

The labour was little but our mind fluttered worth,.

Kingpins of dub,

80s Greentbumbs of North, 

Lotta green to be smoked,

Lotta bundles of worth,

One day Trey came back to water his crop,

But he found the remains of all his hard work,

Not a nug to be found,

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He picked up a branch,.

Strapped it to his back and left for my house,

We hid it in bags under sinks and in bins,

Under house and In Drawers where no one would look,

He ripped up on my lawn til it was rugged with dirt,

We came out to look he shot air with his gun,

We rushed back inside and locked door and then to hid,

He shot out the glass,

Opened door and walked past,

Ordered us against wall,

We would line and stay still,

He patted us down and found nothing still,

My Dad came through door tackled Trey to the ground,

They wrestled and spat and my Dad striked him down,

But Trey squeezed his trigger and loudness ensued,

Trey lost all bearing and insanity ensued,

He ran out the door and hopped up on his bike,

 with screwdriver start but it didn’t start right,

He tried again and left in a rush but he rushed onto road and was hit by a bus,

As the screwdriver broke and pierced through his chest,

It stuck him in heart and he bled through his chest,

We came out to look with his body a mess,

With each limb twisted and all over distressed,

In a pool full of red he gasped his last breathe,

We watch him submerge in a hellish breathe,

That day I went off and smoked a bag full of Sesh,

With my friends and the fiends the dead and depressed,

Night by night we seshed and we yarned,

Night by night my soul went never unharmed,

Til this day when I pray and I play games on Steam,

The darkness in thought when I think about Trey,

From sesh til death,

To Death then Sesh,

From my fathers last breathe,

On the breathe I am left.