Out of ethanol
Not one drop from the bottle
Held upside down
Shelves have fuck all
Spent my morning drinking petrol full throttle.
What time is love? Reads the train times at transcentral
My dental plan is transcendental
My hygienist sucks out plaqued mental faculties
Here, there, on Grafton Street, on a black sand beach in Colchis
I usually don’t, because of my coaches
I am sagely and stately, stores of Roches Stores patience
Could make this man a patient, how’s that for statement
Here are the young men, the running wheel and no escape.
Culture’s dead, culture’s rape
Hope you all kept your tapes
Wipes lipfront with backhand, lips red as spread jam
Jammed into the smoking area of the Bacchia
Spreading baccy into a joint
Boys won’t back me anymore
Because chaos never lacks me
I land it at their door
Mate, island of Saints and Scholars is next door
This here is the Island of Whores and More
Who needs Tara, could have M4
Crestfallen the breast brooch wearer.
Bresting waves western approach
Deck is soaked, sails hard roped
Coming to a slow
Like gin-making show
I went to the gym
Just to make a show of myself
After seven gins
Well suited but doomed Jed and Jenny
Could have been a giant from Gath but alas
Like a jennet I’m small and fast
Slit your face a guinness glass
Barside gavelhitmotion, a great commotion
Harp is sharpened
Heart is heartened, Sherpa knows his mountains
It’s not me but someone is frightened.
Alchemisland 
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