27 Apr 18
The four horsemen of my Quitacalypse:
Skolvikings
If actions speak louder than words,
in the annals of quit we shall see,
that you thundered from the mountains
and burst forth from the sea.
Those you helped were in the hundreds,
the mighty bitch was slain
We broke the chains she held us with
and the cans fell down like rain.
What a marvelous gift to give
to our quitting posterity
For those still held in bondage,
for victory’s theirs to see
And they’ll ask who went before them,
Who carved the path in stone
Behold there goes SkolVikings,
a greater quitter was never known!
Mack213
Do you know of my brother, Mack213?
In the halls of quit is where he is seen.
Of his exploits wondrous tales are told,
And he’ll strengthen your quit a thousand fold.
Oh his slain are a mighty throng,
providing poets with ballad and song
O’er the bitch will he cast a dark pall,
For my brother Mack is 10 feet tall!
He spins her legions off into chaos,
and lays waste to the can on a daily basis.
She flees before him, at the very sound of his voice,
as he informs all the addicts that they have a choice.
He takes them by the hand, he looks into their eyes,
“Come follow me brothers, just give it a try!”
I’ve gone before you, I’ve blazed the trail,
Don’t let her beguile you, for that ship has sailed.
And so here he toils, day after day,
Finding new quitters to show them the way.
You’ll need his wise counsel when you’re at wits end
And when you find him, you’ve found a friend!
JGromo
Every now and then a man comes along,
Who works in your life, who moves you to song.
It happened to me when I met JGromo
Ain’t talking bout love, (not like that you homo)
I was stumbling about like a fool in the dark,
I was lost and confused in the nic bitches park.
I wanted to have it, just one more tin,
Then I heard his voice, all calm in the din
I was thrashing about all anxious and scared
And so I cried out and my soul was bared:
James I’m in anguish, I’m drowning here man!
He just replied softly, Athan put down the can.
I need it I stammered, this stuff is my life,
Don’t be a fool he explained, It’s the source of your strife.
But I’ve got to have it, you don’t understand!
You’re an addict he said, and stretched out his hand.
I remember that day early on in my quit
When James came along, pulled me off of her tit
Then I stood on his shoulders and I scraped the sky,
And he let me taste freedom, now I can fly.
Chris2alaska
Have you heard of Chris2alaska, of the stories old men tell?
Then lend me your ear, for I tell it well.
He hails from up yonder, with the cold Eskimo
Where the snow’s miles deep and the Northern lights glow.
The wolf and the fox, the bear in her den
Won’t venture outside when he’s round the bend.
He’s eight feet tall and four hundred pounds,
and it’s said his wangdoodle still drags the ground.
A man among men, born a true warrior
but my brother Chris had a chink in his armor.
A harmless vice started so long ago
Was now thirty years of smokeless tobacco.
THREE cans of the weed for his daily consumption
But deep inside did burn his compunction
Chis was a slave, the nic bitches whore.
Of this I assure you, he wanted no more.
He confronted that bitch, he’d an axe to grind
Truth be told the man’s scary (he takes moose from behind!)
He fought his battle and emerged victorious,
One day at a time his story grew glorious.
He didn’t rest on his laurels, not one to sit idle
He got a wagon, and a moose with a bridle.
And he roamed the halls of this here KTC
Looking for quitters like just you and me
And lo he found me stumbling around
In a nic induced stupor like some silly ass clown
Oh the bitch had me, firm in her grasp
Cloaked in anxiety, lock and hasp
But Chris wouldn’t have it, no he climbed down
And grabbed this here addict and flung off her crown
He offered his hand and helped me stand up
I learned to taste freedom from the abstinence cup
So I tell his story, regale it with cheer
For had he not done so I wouldn’t be here
