Every racket I’m attached
Set alight, the roof is thatched
For Michael Dwyer, a highland detachment
Out the windows muskets fire
Dwyer won’t be captured
A fox of the mind, no wit lacks for
You wouldn’t get a rebel like that these days
Everyone and their ma wants to be a DJ
I’m emerging bleary, in theory it lasted three days
Selling my estate Prime cans and disposable vapes.
Alchemisland 
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