Alchemisland

I know a fat cunt is coming this Christmas

It’s not Santa even though I wish it

I don’t like to break the law but to see your craw shutted life-wise, I’d risk it

Sometimes you have to snatch and grab to claim the biscuit

Pinching away, small bruises

Nothing severe, you disgusting four-eyed crab

It’s like they devised you to piss me off, created by my nemesis in a lab

And now you among them

Friend turned foe, welcome to throes, new enemy mine

Trying you out for size would be a trial, plus size 

Need a fireman’s hose, or, for the scales, two hundred stone-bound bibles

Chew on that, accusing you of old timey fat, let’s use Tudor math

Henry VI plus II, that’s you and that’s fact

I can forgive you being crabby but all day acting scrappy

Pretending my wife’s your fucking cabby

You sit there, you ungrateful cunt, and smile like you’re happy

Or I’ll grab the labels of your latest fashion disaster

Take my forehead and smash you.