Alchemisland

I don’t mean pushing your dad about the shop

But I pop the pussy like it was a push pop

Pop like it was a car boot storing a body

And we just reached the old quarry

Any flavour not fussy, I like it huggy tight, fuzzy or stubbly

Pop the pussy like finish line champagne bubbly

I drink my favourite wine, the tap’s between her thighs

Never tire pulling pints, getting wired and eating mine

She cums like the sun about which the Beatles sang

She likes me dangling upside down, the hanged man

Hung, won’t hang back in this barrel with crabs

Won’t walk it’s always cabs, it’s always ACAB

All cops are bastards, you can copy that

Pride matter having it stitched into the lining of my jacket

Writ in shed-done dots across the knuckles of my right hand.