Alchemisland

Bad hand I deal ya

Casino bad idea

De Niro don’t shed a tear

If they have to deal with you

He’ll have no idea, legally speaking

Tear gas blankets my glass eyes

She wants to stay behind, cheeky glass of wine

Fruit of the vine I’m only too happy to

Recline, neck like fine bone china

I’m shy now, snort a powdered rhino

How’d the trial go

I raise the paddle like I’m the highest bidder at the cattle auction

Bumping her behind I’m driving the devil’s dodgems

She’s in the bed’s middle, rope straddled, Shadowfax minus the saddle

Angry young thing, no time for these old codgers

Living in Oxford, speaking like Codsworth, its codswallop

Wallowing in mud, holy grail for the holy blood.

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She wears a pink mink over an inky singlet

Met her at a singles evening, ten minutes cinched it

Nipples like Salt Bae, pinched it, Zoidberg’s fist

My ascent like a phantom ship, no passengers

You get sent when I pass to you, joints injurious

My knuckles sporting more rocks than the apocalypse

They remove my books from the Bible, apocryphal

I got bulls parading and shells, a pocketful

I got nerds stuffed into cells, a lockerful

When I’m under fire frontline I pull on that locket

With the lock of your Goldilock’s hair

You lopped off using your bedside locker scissors

To instead of from evil I am delivered

On Lammas Eve, Paimon tells me I’m a wizard

Just desserts get what they deserve, I’m craving angel light

And fruit preserve for my dessert

Dark, quare rites at midnight observed

Won’t take you through it, here’s the blurb

Fleshpots are stirred, served until black birds circle

Sixteen times, an Isis in binds is climbed

Loading it in like her things were a clip

Session so long, ten youtube clips

Was like the Marathon Sprint

Leonidas in the Midas drip, glinting

Proud personage hinting royal precedent

Corn flying kill a corn king president

Don’t look too long, cursed film strip

Strip the meat like it was censorship

Message me if you want sponsorship

Bitch I ain’t sending you shit

Ship of my wit inveterate, I move without getting hit; veteran

So much storing up it’s practically hoarding

I’m well practiced at whoring but this girl makes me look boring

Cavorting like I’ve been forty years in the foreign legion

Fucking marmaladed sandbags like a horny eejit

Like an air hostess upon landing, warns me stay seated

Things are getting heated like I was home late for dinner.