Law’s grip, drip all stretch clothes but they always rip
Stretch those, growing but it’s not prize winning roses
It’s those snowballs you turn into opals, open up shróns
Like a nosegay for the plague ward, but I’m slippery, the ghost
They know me by my livery, clipped delivery, doing deliveries
Making too much noise, if you live with me get clipped deliberately
Sauce like a chipper dinnertime
Lost in it, radar loss Bermuda Triangle
Lost in ghostcalling rhyming, eye stuck inside a three-sided manacle
Undefeated, 0 never lost mine, owing to practice
Most lines every single time, pick me up before going to practice
A skylike castle frost-lined, the tangible praxis of spellcasting.
Alchemisland 
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