Alchemisland

Under pressure executives

Trying to measure and execute

Around these big personalities

A comedy of errors, tank a cancel fee

Conor Mcgregor presser cancelled 

Dublin doesn’t care

Doubling down on all the bad stuff 

Poor Dee Devlin

He’s handsy with everyone 

Has Chandler puppet dancing

Where’s this man’s handler?

You know he was railing lines out in Dolphins Barn 

Doing harm to himself, the lethal left arm

Now permanently nursing a cold jar 

Jarring how fast a star falls

Dana turned red when he saw him on the white 

Maybe saw sparring footage, handled, looking shite

Nostril fulla marching powder

Making cakes, counter flour 

Lost all his counter power

Ploughing thots on cream couches in Crumlin, pinting all hours

Mystic Mac more like Missing Crack during training camp, bet ya 

He drinks most days, after every session the real session commences

Foot cramp after last camp, decamped the cage on a stretcher

One foot in the grave, one foot in the restaurant trade

Gorging on fat lines, cases like Diddy

Heart attack at fifty in the Black Forge 

After George Best’s drinking records

Big debts to settle, big stick of metal

In his leg, soft as a rose petal 

After years sleeping in silk, ego on a pedestal

Not tested in sparring, not tested by USADA army

Gurning in the flats, calling Artem a rat

We win or we learn, what happened that

All his old friends nowhere to be seen

Where are the old guard from SBG 

Straight blasting lines, blinded by the lights video scenes 

Driving a green sports car at two hundred around Stephen’s Green 

A hero once, now considered a hindrance 

His Sinead O’Connor entrance entranced us all, record gates

You’re only worth your last win, what have you done for me lately game

Know what he’s done lately: cocaine 

Just because he starred in Road House 

Doesn’t mean he needs to hang out in the grow house

Mouse around men and man around mice

Cian Cowley conceding mount in sparring 

John Kavanagh pretending he’s a caring sort

Wondering if there’s another book deal in order 

Conor is completely out of order, he has whiskey in his water

Bottle, he’s toast if he fights 

Toasting proper twelve every night 

No proper hell when he’s preparing to fight

His camp is easy and stout goes down creamy, dreaming of the old days when he used to cream featherweights

Now his plug weighs out eighths while he gets cash together 

Fairweather friends, Kinahans and denizens of dirty Dublin fuel his benders

He’ll be found dead after a fender bender

The Mac is back but in the shack where he bags the yak 

Strife in the Mac Life, can’t use the footage from last night 

Once his wins made us feel elevated 

Now he is a despised, drunken rapist.