For Mary Jane, there is a dealer selling nickel bags
To every "head" who forks across enough dough
And for the coke-heads who want some "blow" --
It's as pure as snow

On the corner is a banker with Mercedes-Benz
He wants a hooker and a hundred bucks of "crack"
So the prostitute climbs in the back
Of his limousine,
Head not seen!

Mary Jane is in my head and in my eyes
There, up through the blue, the smoke plumes rise
I sniff, and lean right back

For Mary Jane, or for some crystal methamphetamine
Hand out some Presidential portraits, crisp and green
Or, if you're British, portraits of the Queen --
There's a change machine

Mary Jane is in my brain creating highs
Some Alice Toklas brownie pie
No bummer, meanwhile back...

Behind the cathouse in an old abandoned factory
A former nurse has pretty poppies on display
And when the flower part's refined away:
Heroin buffet

For Mary Jane, the dealer weighs it on his balance-beam
We see the banker sitting, grinning from his quim
And then the Spider-man rushes in
On his arm again:
Mary Jane!

Mary Jane, a couple beers, and my head flies
Lunch: a Sudafed, some Bourbon, fries ---
I fall flat on my back

Mary Jane, it disappears, but new supplies --
Here, eventually, always arise
Mary Jane!