Doobie In My Pocket

Doobie Doobie I just remembered There's a doobie in my pocket In my shirt In my suitcase As I'm standing in line to check into my flight And I'm trying to decide if I should get out of line But the line is really long And I start thinking about this song And about the hippie at the festival That gave me the doobie That is in my pocket in my shirt That's in my suitcase That I'm planning on checking To my final destination Which is another festival With hippies and more doobies So I, Don't really need The one that is in the pocket Of my shirt in my suitcase And I wonder if they'll find it And I wonder what they'll do Depending on their mood They could put it in their pocket Of their TSA shirt Or maybe they're disgruntled And just spark it where they stand (cough. chough... chough) Or maybe they will give it to their friend Steve the Cop Who will put it in his pocket And give it to the Rasta Who works at the Starbucks At gate 39 In hoping of continuning of receiving His free triple tall americana shots on top That he desperately needs The extra caffene So that he can walk his miles and miles of luggage With his female German Shepard That he named Eva Braun For the David Langley song Or at least the song that Langley does I'm not really sure If David Langley wrote it But one thing's is true Steve the Cop he likes it Or maybe he will simply throw the doobie in the trash To avoid all the paperwork Complete pain in the ass And this is what is going through my brain As I exit the plane And walk to baggage claim And pray for a key change But the suitcase never came And i start to go insane As I pace around with visions of Guantanamo Bay No need to drool, man Everything is cool They found my suitcase on the way to Istanbul And they got it just in time Put it on the next flight Everything's ok I should be seeing it the next day But once again it never came And once again I go insane Because it's time to go And like an hour to the show Without any traffic That I did not leave in time for Now I've got road rage 'Cus it's my turn on the stage And I cannot deny The sharp pain behind my eye And I have to stop and smile Because I suddenly realize... That I'm wearing the shirt With the doobie in my pocket I was never in my suitcase I was wearing it the whole time