Odd jobs on stand by for the snogging scene
Job lot, ponging out the bog with me noggin cheese
Pard pelt, barbed wire chain, and retarded Armani belt for the exchange
In the piss-perfumed tunnel, to the tumult of clacking train passage
We traded goods to mutual advantage, high grade buds from Atlanta
Like JID, strong smell even lidded like doc’s shit sample when I’m sick
No surprise got more pies than lunchtime at a mine, liplickers in line
Chimera strains mine, medicine bags twine-tied
You and I, nothing tween
Nowt betwixt, twig crowns for string-directed queens
Two different types: one white, one green
Irish sans one stripe, let the island be entirely free
One big droog pile, pied strains no magpie
City to myself for a while
Because cell updates dictate
And they say it might rain.
Alchemisland 
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