Alchemisland

Jack the style of Jack the Ripper

Home in time for kippers 

Some for necking, this for sipping

Knob protection if getting with strippers

Yellow liver drinking this paintstripper 

Run a strimmer over my grave

Smoke a blimmer of high grade haze 

My gaze has a glimmer 

A light sliver living inside the eye

I’m a crime forgiver 

If I fly, she’ll cry forever 

I’m on the dry all November

Come first December

Back on it with venom

All over the shop 

Read the Windhover by Gerard Manley Hopkins to a brazzer 

In a Leeson Street knocking shop

Only patron knocking in with any decency 

My life an amazing pageturner

I’ll break a face like Ike Turner 

I’ll sell ice via burner 

Not important whether you’re nice 

I’m here to exploit your vice 

So I can buy myself new Nikes 

Few bikes, few birds with moon eyes 

And few ties, resistance is futile 

You can’t therapize an Irishman 

As recognised by Freud 

Looking out windows counting magpies 

Out loud, saluting them proudly 

If you don’t do it it doesn’t count 

Overhead black clouds looming

They don’t seem to be moving 

Like oldies grooving to old moldy music

Hold me, they remember the Soul Train 

Getting a bit soapy, sweating to oldies 

Smoked shrubs, I took some old pills 

Found them in a cupboard inside bills 

Now I’m feeling ropey, limbs rubbery

Wondering can I recover 

Or should I go home

One on me phone, looks lovely

Loads of absolute dopes floating 

Asking me where I’m going 

Asking me am I voting 

Telling them get down off me, get the boat

If you choose to persist, get the rope

I’m on the ropes, fading slowly 

Won’t ever cop a baiting, cop a fade 

And cop a plate, asking for a date

She’s wanting to blow me, stat

To stop me masturbating, ha 

I have on my master’s hat 

I’m selling all my handler’s za 

I’m drinking endless cups of cha 

Gurning, gumming, loads of chat 

Fucking burst you, forget a gat 

You little turd, you’ll get a smack 

Deckchair, December, folded up like that 

Decked, remember who done you like that

You looked like death afterwards 

I never spurn a challenge 

Smashed in the alley, then curbed 

My other cheek never turned

Your gaff turnover crust, badly burnt.