Never in life shot gun
Only in Time Crisis
Three fat slugs quick sunk
Arising time of crisis.
He leads me, blam blam blam
Blood enough to lip a dram
I cut across, span to span
Holding guts inside with hands
I come back from death, Osiris
Call it luck of the Irish
Born in a barn or barmy
Leave door open behind me
Manners of a carny
I instantly sense house alarms.
Alchemisland 
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