Mare nostrum, I seek visions of Mary trueblue in and under the sun
Her son the wondermaker, her untouched, ne’er undone
By base rutting cunning, the innkeeper wanted money
But his disposition was about as sunny
As wintery Ballymun, rain-sullied and muddy
Sundered by a vast drug underworld
It pulls you in, promising you the world
Your head will twirl: spices delights bright lights.
The spirit enjoys, endures, tonight
A sense of something final
A shifting idol pointing to the high place.
Alchemisland 
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