Lots of bars and fewer temples
Spire like a rusted tentpole
Minging and uncaring
A needle so not for sharing
Gearheads rising, activated by Thomas Sheridan
He sounds like he’s from the Kremlin
Putin’s views, he often shares them
It might bear thinking about it
It rises up, Clare sa Spéir
Hope it’s not loadbearing
Because when revolution comes
They’re tearing it down
It drowns Dublin in a demonic need for heroin consumption
I don’t want to say who done it but contract was on the masonic budget
Ten pound pints in Temple Bar
Couldn’t tempt me in for a jar
City made of scars, might be harsh
Like black metal guitars but make it a target
For nuclear armaments, red button push it sergeant
Dread going out, stencilling cancellation templates on my phone
Then they can’t corral me, wild cabal, loathe going home
Alchemisland 
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