At times come out slow as a Fiat with a flat tyre
Pipe black firing, press the button for black fire
Pedal to metal off into the night
Peddler of wares
Untiringly inspired, you come out in black tie
Attired for my acidic satires, satyrs with lyres
By my side plucking high notes, open throated
Odes to woodwoses, entire hat cut in half
By the executioner bastard his gladius
Spazzing out at my carapace, pace he can’t keep
Keep face and keep goading him to chase, load a left
Explode his face, chin checked, fresh cleft palate
Hard for you now to speak in Spanish.
Alchemisland 
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