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