Three wise men of Galilee, out walking the streets, one says I have to go home, I can't continue this journey anymore, I thought it was sort of lame, the other says to me, we must go back, to our home in Notre Dame, this guy is not going the right way,

So I followed him home, and after we smoked a joint,

It was quite a nice day,

Anyways, all I wanted to say,

Is where there are three men, there will be a teacher among them,

Pretty good saying, bound to be correct, because dharma aligns all, and hierarchy is ingrained between them, these three men,

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But were they not all wise?

Of course, but they would be wiser, if they lowered themselves, prepared their stance, to learn something,

For in wisdom, is that wonderful smell, of your own farts, as you stand on a mountain,

Really gets you high, wisdom can really make you fly,

But alas, above us, there is always a teacher,

Waiting, so patient, for us to follow him,

But dally around I will, and frisk as many women as I can,

For that chance, for love and life,

Is more, than I can dream of,

This red blood,

Is proof of my family,

What my father gave to me,

Once I’ve eaten, all that I can,

Only then, will I follow him, to that upwards spiral, higher and higher,

But maybe I won’t have time, I just sit around completing these rhymes,

Let me smoke weed and get drunk, maybe I’ll be fine.