Alchemisland

In Black Puddle city, where Stout rules

Fire’s there

It’s about fuel

Used lighter fluid; you can smell the fumes

Fuck the stress of booking a room

Just suck it, maybe sex, then spit in the bucket, take your ducats and exit through

The door you entered, nothing subtle what it is, like them supple

Lighting one up because today we made throuple

Went from Tesco Bacon Rashers to passion fruit

Hesperidean apples, pig-hot truffles

Proud of my sons short their hair getting ruffled

Rough streets out there you have to have hard knuckles

Cold too, bought my favourite a new Duffle in Marks and Sparks

Luca, top marks for your last party on Lucan Road

But there’s dirty laundry and lucre owed

Brought the bluker and the big stick, not playing snooker

Smoke filled the car like we installed a gearwell hookah

Slash hook and an Iraqi bazooki, not just there to spook ya

At the complex door hitting buttons like launching nukes

Not complex settling scores, turning doors to splinters with size 8 boots

Once inside he’s giving us side eyes

Lasered in on my knife like “W-what’s that for?”

Get the four and five you owe I scold him

Or that’s your life; spill your gore on the floor

Settling scores, more icy than the fjords

Not everyone’s happy to pay, gotta make them, it’s fake applause

They’re your best mates, you’re a legend that day

But everything fades away

All that’s left is the mist and rain

And the cleft the parasite left on your claim

Took out my saw from the top drawer

Left his fingers sore like he’s learning guitar

Drooling hounds confined with twine

That wouldn’t keep plain paper aligned

A whole mile where the buildings are higher so the sun never shines

Rarely given cause to sigh, printing money like an old emperor died

We operate without rules, down dank, dark laneways my labourers

The crew aboard my ship of fools exuding ruthlessness to protect the food

A strict grid of marketplaces booked out with bullets

Roofs ornately wrought, astound you

Self-doubt sees six pints downed

Sees me texting ahead of coming around 

Leave before my next round, flee back to the stomping ground

Should reside behind glass like crown jewels

Didn’t look behind or left and right, like a proud fool

He waited until it was night

Crept up behind me silent grasping his flensing knife

He hopped on my back like a depression-exuding monkey

He tugged at my hair

I knew he didn’t want my money because I had it to spare

Somewhat carelessly but he didn’t seem to care

He tried to hook and seal his forearm before my throat to constrict my air

But in the tousle I grabbed his hair and tugged.