Antsed pants of bank owners in fancy flats
Crying at the advanced projections
The violent downward trajectory of next year’s graphs
Lacking ways to attack back, extract tax or attract backers
The good times have elapsed like time spent whilst glad
Expected a boom not a bang, city full of bandits and beggars
Powder keg ready to expand, ex-military deserter trains us in explosives
Enraged ephebes banging on the doors
Every window smashed on the ground floor
Fighting their way stairwell by stairwell to the top storey
The city looked like it had been attacked by a dragon
Luas trams half-melted, overturned wagons, sirens shouting
Every evening policemen and politicians are seized on the street
Arrested by the citizenry, executed by civil decree, corn kings for stability
Stabbed innocent or guilty, their blood is a bond of fealty
Every wall is tagged, graffiti revealing their grand plan
Lamplit gypsy camps along the Grand Canal, dangling lanterns
Suspended from the charred armature of a burnt out 46A bus
Every night the sham trials, the loud reports then silence
Lamppost hangings
Vatican bankers rockpocketed hanging off Blackfriars Bridge.
Alchemisland 
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