Alchemisland

Speed limit going over, lost soul road

Driving like Toad of Toad Hall, towing haulage

Stowing something green bound for Raleigh

I hear a scream, an aethyr opened by Crowley

Something unholy crawling out, happy to devour my soul

I am a champion but my hour grows old, the golden belt cold

To touch I did so much to get seems now a lot of needless fuss

Vision fuzzy, cuts gushing blood because we wear no gloves

I gave out and got many needless concussions

Touched up mushed up faces helled leather, stretchers rushing in

Last push, hit him flush, blood streaming from his aquiline features.