Alchemisland

Tropes apotropaic popes inappropriate robes for such a solemn ceremony

Cerecloth swaddled, buried with loving economy, heard no homilies

When the family interned my body, dignity without a modicum

Shoot a cop gladly I’m Clarence Bodicker, didn’t expect he’d come back a robot

Know the plot ahead of time, rehearsed all my lines a hundred times

Come out and speak with style, unpracticed but it’s structured tightly with malice

Make you a Wonderland and call you Alice, my off the cuff is precisely practiced

Oscar owing or at least a Bafta how I’m an actor who practices his craft

All I care about is accuracy, I demand perfection or we’re not commencing at all

I want everything I do to observe the dimensional amount of four, how Blake saw

Break the box apart with a hacksaw, I’m married to a hag squaw who tells fortunes

She casts bones along an upturned fruit box, results are shocking, silver my palm

I’ll tell you what’s coming, what’s rising in the oven, peel back this tearjerker onion

Influences I’m under stem from the fierce god of thunder, all my worlds are under

Like a superquake rubbled New Amsterdam into scree at the bed of the Hudson

If we’re playing Aliens I’m always being Hudson, HUD off no crosshair game over, son

An old man came over and he said son give up your ways, take it from someone older

Who recognizes hisself in you, spied you from over yonder so I over wandered

I take him in yawning, wondering what’s his angle, what carrot he’ll dangle

He doesn’t seem to have one, he’s not angry or managing to rile me.