Let me die prepared
Like a Dark Souls player
My affairs taken care of
Hair combed and oiled
Shoes a good clean pair
Going up that final stair
Void of potential recommencement
I stumble upon the threshold
And never become a legend
In my Lemony Snicket phase
Endless series of unfortunate days
Olympiad Irish lads going home with more gold
And chains than Trinidad James at his wake
Trying to take with him what cannot be taken
Coins on eyes in the ancient manner
Cerecloth same colour as Manna
Leadbelly how guests say sorry mama
On telly, see the West enter the doldrums
Hyperinflation bankrupt the nation
No coppers, no coffers
Just coffins, corpse boxes
A mystery what happened, like chess boxing
I’m out to find out, asking questions in the night Charles Bronson
Death wish asking around Limerick who’s doing the stabbings
From the land of haven’t
They ran a show, found no talent
When government are in session
The guards outside carry weapons
And the licence to kill, alleged
They can’t kill a legend
But they killed hope, kids mad on dope
Mad out, strung out on the session
Sleeping on the back steps behind the Weston
Banks in recession, currency unsteady
Attention deficit, idiocy a weapon
Empty shelves not replenishing
End to the land of plenty
Twenty twenty four, end of the tour.
Alchemisland 
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