Alchemisland

Trailing priests along east street easter morning July 93

Slam down road melting like the shamir glanced it

Whole thing is a sham, damned, damn it not going according to plan

Car has taken damage, leaking like a battered dam behind Battersea

Power Station, when it goes it will drown all the land

Amount leftover fits palm of hand, couldn’t fill a roll up

I’m on a roll but rolling towards where, my time is up

I fill my cup and sup, let the drops sop my lap

All is vanity, and vanity ill fits dust