Alchemisland

Evil in my marrow, in my gore, inheriting the impaler’s title

Vision narrows like a foreshortening arrow before goring your visor

I’m awake with the owls and foxes

Moon like a stained glass copy of itself

Head in a box, no return address to doxx

Now comes the hour, this time is ours

Cock that clockarrows read triple 3

No cockcrow, sound is a banshee

Changing lanes to get takedowns like it’s Burnout 3

Every single month there’s a new worst ever UFC

I’m a rabid pikey still sending out beef DVDs, VHS if you need

VHI what you’ll need after we bleed, a small plaster does mine

Like the look of your wife, a woman of style, sexy segment

Them legs, man, you’d never think she was eight time pregnant

Just looking at her I can tell she’s demented, crazy head

Cool when I’m collecting like I’m gathering plates at mass

My nickname is the widow’s second, no shotgun quick wedding

Bedding still smells like you, I’m wearing your dressing gown when we’re doing it

Your toilet I pooh in it, your moods she tells me you used to stew in them

Having me in to do her is considered a breath of fresh air, we smoke a blem

Then I’m back in the car you thought was a jet, google map a trash heap of skets’ addresses

Shorter dresses than Iran before all the messing, missus so busy never notices I’m missing.