Death’s invisible wand doles out deaths
The unscared are plainly liars, the leading lads are overtired
The eyeful jets swoop over fires, my grenades will pacify us
Ties that bind us severed by frustrated Alexander, knot satisfied with his lot
Zeus-Thoth, longest lot drawer, west and east drawn closer
His foot cloven, his mother a coven member whispered fates to breastlipped King
Lighthouses mark the lightbringer, books the light that he brings in
Coins bear his visage, mighty empires fear his visit
He crosses empty countries full of abandoned villages
Considers rebels idiots, he rule is not perfidious as later Albion
Time of Mabinogion, Fen giants and worship of bloodspattered graven Crom
Wyrd lord Slough Feg, his entrails beg boiling, he is the soil you toil in
John Barleycorn is the life of the fields, what scars the land he deeply feels
When you kneel before the sun, it is upon his flesh that you kneel
When you peel an orange at lunch, it is his flesh that you unseal
While Irish Kings mate with mares to confer kingship
Alexander his horses swifter than ships, his lips born to kiss skies
His mortal form a disguise, swine before his divine eyes
He prizes above all the bridleturn of strong nations
He gives mercy to the fallen, Vae Victis his homesick men crave
Where he casts his stave are cities raised.
Alchemisland 
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