Pentagram formed of paths, grass and trees in the centre of the city
Looks pretty until you see it from a plane window, occult activity
Dublin not as nice as it seems
Parts of it seedy
Prostitutes, muggings, drubbings
Dodgy drug dealings
Just shy of twenty five years
And still no sight of poor Trevor Deely
The police have been clear explicitly
They believe he fell prey to foul play
Perhaps we’ll never know what happened that December day
On Haddington Road
His mobile phone rang out
No one heard a sound
Mad theories go around
Real IRA had a hand
Wanted to plant a bomb below the bank
When Clinton arrived, bomb would go bang
Think I’d call that misplaced anger
It’s an odd angle
They must be American
That’s not how we tango
I expect, sadly, wrong place wrong time
Walk around Dublin your life on the line
From Dundrum to Crumlin
Facades are crumbling
Something this way is coming
More wicked than the famous play
Hits, not wickets in an English game
Bricks my fists surrealate your face
Struggling to case correlate
Names and dates
No face no case.
Alchemisland 
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