Bottles of Bollinger bought in Spar
Free South American, calling me Bolivar
Everyday a snow day, no snow pay
Big mouth pelican but I back it, punch’s deadening
If you have that heavy chin
Then I’ll be back within ten with a leadspreader to dead you
Bigger menaces out there, sure, but never met ‘em, Western
I’ve got stacks of paper like uncut confetti
Spliff tapered, resembling Ricard’s Rapier
Fiends eating through their noses like tapirs
Opening money news with a brass sabre
Spliff au limon put most under the table
I’m writing shit designed to live ages, Xenophon
Consider me among the sages
Walking ick with visible labels
Put the ic in hydropon
No more hiding, plain sight eyes wide
Wine-red tearing off my sheep hide, amidst a throng
Wondering if they’re wired, rubbing my eyes so tired
Last year or two autopilot.
Alchemisland 
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