I am called the Swampland’s Reef Keeper
This mire here is our stank place
Each breath we draw fills us with reefer
The finest strain known to our race
In our bog, time’s stalled, yet they try to
Interfere with this marsh, so pure
Sacraments and rituals to the
Swamp Gods mean our safety’s assured
You shall not pass
A thing but the grass, motherfucker!
“Keeper of the Reef” is acceptable
As well, if you like that more
Banana Bud we smoke, it’s delectable
There’s always more of it in store
Take a hit! Don’t even act like you can’t!
Just submit! Mortal, it’s but a plant!
Hold it in! Let the Swamp consume you!
Green, your skin! The Swamp now flows through you!
The endless miles of thick swampland that constitute our island
Will surely grant our primitive race epochs of asylum
From the filth and the wretch of mankind and modernity
And here we’ll stay, in this place, for the rest of green eternity
This plant, the smoke of life
For it, we sacrifice
The gift of human blood
Spilt for the divine Banana Bud!
You shall not pass
A thing but the grass
Here I stand, the Swampland’s Reef Keeper
This mire here, our sacred place
Each breath we draw fills us with reefer
The finest strain of any race
Sacraments and rituals to the
Swamp Gods mean YOU DIE!
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