Our lungs are filled with dust
Concealed in the palace of rust
Stoned again we must
Christ is resin
What remains becomes our last
Potion runs through our blood
Take a pull of the crud
Christ Is Resin
Bong Wizard
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Our lungs are filled with dust
Concealed in the palace of rust
Stoned again we must
Christ is resin
What remains becomes our last
Potion runs through our blood
Take a pull of the crud