Private road to the good manor
Can’t take the lad out of his private planet
Bad manners not the band, I’m sliding down bannisters ’cause I can
Gaff truly le grande like Alexander in France
I’ve got ghosts who wouldn’t know a Tudor rose from Adam, that old
For all my vanity haven’t cleaned the pad in weeks, bad mould
Littered with footpad implants and canisters, traffic loads
All my friends are bandits, see you out then traffic slows
Our shit doesn’t jam, we land then manage it, clip unload
Touching down in foreign lands: Ripon, Nippon. or Rhodes.
Trips sandwiched between lickouts for your missus
No misses, no country when I haven’t enrolled a mistress
Mischievous one showing interest
Haven’t seen under that red dress
Situ requires redress, finesse it.
Alchemisland 
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