Wiping my nose like a bad dose
Statham crank, using bank notes
At Ballaly station in ballies, extolling vanity
No gloating, in robes leaving votives before a lotus postured goat
So many bad hoes
Giving me throat, moaning like Glados
They’re not bad, haven’t seen me mad
Yet, and they’re jumping at shadows already
I’m gathering in the mansion, getting ready
Maybe I’m mad, like Hitler in the shell-shaken bunker, making battle plans
I’m blathering about certain actions, names blackened
Because there are active sanctions.
Alchemisland 
Leave a comment