Alchemisland

Let everything dangle on a steep odd

Steep loss take it stiff lipped like a boss

Round numbers, mattresses got them stuffed like fucked plumbing

Plum duff, wiping duck grease off my cuff, on the come up I’m Macduff

Out the bottle, no cup Nelson-spiced rum, wine’s older than Pushkin

Pushing rocks uphill since Olympic Gods, grind’s older than we know

Numbers around, like the roulette’s span

Buzzing in the Rolex man

Relax, man, or you’ll be the next man.