Alchemisland

Not Desperate Dan

From a can, Dapper Dan man until I leave the planet

Unmanageable hair manages to tame it, frame it

Just right like a Monet painting, life’s a stage

Life strange, my knife words upon the page

After bathing myself in radiance, find out it was radiation

Gladiator irradiated holding aloft my gladius, thumb-awaiting

My master I obey him, happy with my slavery

Catamite for a best mate, calumny for my foes today

Pissing on every man I slay, even the Emperor knows my name

Steed that can’t be tamed, wants me to take his wife to family way

Deliver the payload in the pagan temple, before the old Rome stones

Give her the whole bone, a tryst with an old soul, tristram music

My backing track as I jam it then spaff it up her back, in the ass

Then au naturel to ensure sperm fast travels to the baby passage

Transit nine months in carriage like late delivery calendars

Stuck on the Suez Canal on account of the bandits

Massive warehouses abandoned, under new management

Go in there and you might vanish, whiter than whitebread sandwich

What’s inside the package, dip in and lick it off the magnum

Headshot then doc tags them, dockside found strangled, wrangled shoved into bags

Zipped up, wrapped in plastic like a storebought haggis, I’m haggling with my own aunt

Trying to increase the cost, how many bags she bought, how often, she adores this shit

She its mistress and I am equipped to facilitate her want to live deliciously

She asks me to kiss her but I miss her lips skip straight to fisting skirtlifting

Used to call me a shirtlifter, now I buy drip sets in thrift shops short shrift

From the drop off point, I meet a client out near Seapoint, point him towards

The opposite shore, I have endorsements there too, a lot of pots boiling

I like to avoid plot spoilers, no tarot cards to deliver me missives devoid

Of any accurate predictions, swerve and miss the sticky ambiguous mystic

I’m trying to be more realistic and the strangeness only quickens

The plot thickens like angel delight mixture with milk and some whisking

I’ve got jars, some with piss and some with whiskey, depends on Thin Lizzy

A rock cd always spinning, CDs not MP3s

Mention flac in this flat get a flat, spin off into the ditch

Flatline you with the tyre iron, splatter you, reverse two times, ichor spirals

Downward spiral not Icarus father defying, neither cold turkey nor dry out

Helps me triumph over my roundabout drug pounding.