Alchemisland

My bands are held in sackcloth bags, transit to the bank

Men the size of tanks march alongside the brinks van in ranks

Seeing obvious daytime violence, toothless beggars vile, signs of times

Written everywhere like graffiti tags along a subway train’s flank, crimes

Committed so openly that satan is never lonely, chill down my spine

Like I’m reading the Loney am lóin, some bad habits I’ve never outgrown

What’s on the TV today, skinheads committing GBH

Back to fighting on landing grounds

RAF bombers making nyrooom sounds

Smoking weed I’ve ground, watching another Armada drown

Screen lights up, missives from the queen

Telling me she misses me

As if she’s my missus

Each message eleven kisses

Words delivered like missiles

If she had a greed for love

Should have done a better job

Picking, been a bit more picky

A plucky sinister slibheen Liffey eel slippery

Picked up a miss me with that fiend

Tell me you love me, fire back U2

Congress of one, put it to a vote

Unanimously go with flight mode.