manic sequoia
He roams the streets of our nations
(Most often met at central stations),
He carries neither sword nor steed,
But bears instead a sense for weed.
So cower down before his strike,
For he smells pot and bush alike.
An ever-cunning true protector,
The oh so witted Dank Detector!
His pupils wider than his heart,
His stamina a work of art,
His nostrils catch the lightest whiff,
And none escape his thorough sniff.
His lungs have ventured far and wide,
His feet rush with the swiftest stride,
A man of uncompared sort,
The mighty Odour Overlord!
Is that a joint that you are lighting?
Be sure, he knows where you are hiding!
There is no place upon the globe,
Where he can't smell your purest dope.
His mission by his heart's decree:
To find all of your THC!
He'll come, it's unpreventable,
The righteous, godlike Scentinel!
It's the objective of this man,
To find all of the bud he can,
Because its main defining function
Is for his very own consumption.
His reefer radar is so strong,
He'll find it in a million's throng,
And he's collected so much bush,
That they have named him Captain Kush!
gray roost
delicate bane