Alchemisland

I never lose my head, not even in the red of feuding

I go recluse, reglue myself together, Humpty could never so I’m better

Trying to keep me and being broke separate, and I mean forever

Hard to think I had 150 large last September

Traded that, plus or minus another hundred grand

For a gorgeous country gaff

No land but a spacious garden

Affording a more than ample view of the county called the Garden of Ireland

I’ve got green like Gawain, like how you make garlands

All year St Patrick’s paint

Hardly harmless but it’s a balm

My only calmness in this angstravaged facade

Surely worse awaits so heaps get taken to make fate go away

Embracing every change

With the assurance that nothing ever really changes

The wheel must break, repetitive procession of ages

God is a professional and an engineer

But you peel back far enough and see he’s lazy

At building he’s amazing

But it would be wrong to say saviour.