Four thousand five hundred and rising,
Chewing coca leaves to keep my head.
Waves of dizziness,
Spells of fatigue,
Feeling fucked after a fifty-metre stretch.
Leaf after leaf,
Joins the cluster in my gums.
Is this remedy even legit?
Is that a single tingle in my mouth?
Or am I sucking down a placebo,
To keep me sane,
On this highest of high,
Barren desert plains?
Well the bolivianos are doing it.
Heck, they’re supplying the greenery.
Oh well guess it beats chewing nothing.
Another handful of leaves please,
While I sit back in wonder,
Of this dusty, windswept scenery.
R E LA T E D :: ¤ Dalí ¤ & ¤ Siloli ¤