Alchemisland

Your fella: type RTÉ

Second year hair bleached

Herr Cleary, Latin teacher

Pass exams, get a vehicle

Gaff massive, medieval

Doctors in the family, medical marvel wouldn’t be far off

All the sprogs, now armfuls, delivered in Mount Carmel

Conceived on top of a car, below Atacaman desert stars 

Fixture at Wezz, guaranteed

Teaching you to ski at weekends

I’m going on sprees with E heads

No weed, friends all cokeheads, best-dressed with business degrees

I’m in sweats, dressed messy and dead already, finishing my 33s

Your lad calls all beers brewskies, doesn’t smoke fags

I’m doing petrol station blueys, blagging ghostie bags

Even your fella’s granny was famous and venerable, a helper of rebels, and friendly

Her hubby some handsome hero, part of a socialist labour union

My granny was the devil; wouldn’t hand you a tenner on your communion

Wouldn’t piss on you to save you if she’d doused you with the petrol fumes

Bang up the thermostat, I want lads entering permos stat

Lads in KPMG asking about Ks, cake deliveries

Eighteen mgs of LSD, doing TNT in the MG with LG screens

Empty eyed, nobody weeps when fiends die

Lean diet split between green and white

Been a while quiet, expecting any minute a riot

Pyramids mirror Orion.