Nine pill night, painful gestation
See nothing, feel someone pacing
Could be the doctor fetching medicine from a case
Could be Satan coming by for his taste
He made me sign in cursive, pen sprouting flames
He made the sign of cursing, mouthing ten names
Mountain ten times a titan’s maximum size
Must have been no bus drivers how I stride in at half five
Give your nose bone a violent high five, call a cleaner on my burner phone
Evening with feet up on my burnished throne, room is furnished for a Pope
For a furnace to light the dope, going furthest the last of hope.
Alchemisland 
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