Got heads sans stalks
Seeds potted, well watered
Under hot lamps in my attic
No dramatics but no extra white padding when it snowed last
Before I go out get into the zone with a snowblast
It’s fucking freezein tonight
Where are we, Stary Oblast?
Plenty laughs
Got the talk that
Remind you of a good comedy club
Got the commodity commoners love
To pig snuffle up in bogs
Once their jobs are done
Stuff your chops, fill your boots
One zoot and it’s off to God with me
Know well the typography
Physical and mental, psychogeography
Got psychos on the job for me
Fine by me as long as I get a few bob, grand job.
Alchemisland 
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