Dru addict, you too are the son of somebody,
Some loving mother and father
Who never wanted to make you
An addict,
Where your friends
Who developed the habit in you
And leaving you in abject poverty
And bad state,
Fled they away
And now you selling the things for the intoxicants,
Trying every sort of addiction
And instead of it, sleep is not on the eyes,
You keepong half-awake and babbling,
Your eyes red with
Which you understand it not.
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