Rosson´s den

 yellow warehouses full of growing cannabis stalks
Living rooms for parties and inebriation
The remains of dinner fall off dirty plates and soil the sidewalks
A thousand teenage adults attempt to classify for an invitation

They would be the popular hanger ons that would rustle up cash
and customers latch on to the latest scheme and theme for a bash
Big trucks and classic cars that have been restored and soldered
long and heated speculation arms folded

Only the gesticulator keeps himself hands free
as the others devise strategies to disagree
The task force drug awareness mobile workshop arrives
Pretend to be human for an hour hidden knives

Before transforming back into crisis seeking addicts
half drunk on their own sense of shrunken identity
As the butt of the joke was aimed at these thugs
Who fill the void in their personality with drugs

The yellow warehouses were like these big garages of fun
The police came in burning and blazing guns
The specialists having confiscated tools of sin
Rosson the big gangster had nothing but a grin

For it wasn´t warehouses weed
Nor party living room perks
it wasn´t even the drugs that made it all work
it was the social rug sewn of outcast fibres

And he simply slung that rug over his shoulder 
opening his party somewhere hidden damper and colder
atleast for a few months of chaotic senseless fun
As the reflectioness youth collect like tar in their own lungs