Alchemisland

Hitting more keys than your local vocal choir

I’m getting more P from dope than the blokes off the Wire

Almost choke when the yoke on the box mentions my name

I’m in the Fox, tell Conchobar turn it up, shush an utterer

Quit your babbling, my brow furrows because Dublin news is troubling

Either my shoulders raised or my head is burrowing under

I feel every head in the bar turning to observe me

Y’all better turn back before I feel burned and exert William Burroughs

Style: one clear through the forehead instead of the apple.