High ex, high calibre, highly ranked
High, blanked, Cali burn precedes fomentation of verses
Foes fating my death throes, planning rose throwings on my hearse
As it rolls by on down the road, first one to throw on dirt
First one to spit in your eye
Long time thorn in side
Contemplating the wounds on His side
My Gods the type born from thighs in ancient time
That’s how you get my kinda stride, so iced out I’m rimed
Like an ancient mariner but turns on a dime so I don’t marry it
Who knows what’s likely, let tides carry me along a tight line
I’m clearing up lines like a Aldi server
Audi swerver serving our curses, behind enemy lines
Young Werther all weather all terrain, they’re twitching curtains
Seeing my terrine, Tarrare with the meals, I’ve got food.
Alchemisland 
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