it was beyrouth and we were sixteen maxie and me
he had done some time as a lottery boy in miami
leaving me lazy to shamelessly revel in beauty
hey man got any hash he would say out of breath
pigeon chest goofing hard on his asthma inhaler
with the pipe on fire the callow words keep coming
more often than not he would find me in bed
as i fumbled the sheets for a chunk of the blissful resin
while he laughed at my naked state and called me a pervert
black and white print of the man in his velvet suit
jimi hendrix on the wall whanging that slick guitar
singing a song about hash and girls and mountains fair
my buzz took hold as i swore i would write that song some day
because jimi was still alive at the time as he wore out
the guitars and the hash and the girls in mean old london town
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