Dublin Boardwalk

Less than a mile from the Spire

I run a boardwalk empire

Not enough teeth for a smile

The Empire’s second city

The Empire’s droughtless titty

Bag of brown do a score or fifty

Sage for Yanks, standard grifty

Garda come and I sort the Liffey

Toss the lot and I’m back to sifting

Through handbags for dope cash

Up a junkie bird’s ass a dope cache

With my name on it in black

A pack of white and a rack of brown

Brown surrounds it when she squats down

Her knickers around her ankles

Bag outdangles like an oversized dangle

Berry

As a cherry on top we got merry with a blunt of Mary

Merrion Square smelled like Bob Marley’s hair

Clouds in the air hands in the air

Hands on the bonnet, who’s got the gear

Waking up where I have no idea

Know it’s serious fear, that was serious gear.

Walk around Dublin avoid the boardwalk

Avoid walking there even if you’re bored

Christopher Runnin’

I’m a Christ consciousness showrunner

Running the show though I’m a slow runner

Hare lose to Tortoise, town lost to tourists

Shogunning rogue ronins

I’ve got runners from Ballyogan doing gunnings

Blowing up government employees with something

I whipped up in my shed, in my alembic.

Alchemisland