Alchemisland

Tropic of Cancer, tropic of Capricorn

The horn she gives me, it’s like all the world’s porn

Is playing at once, I can barely keep the cum in my horn; hornucopia

Shagging all morning; if I was born today, I’d gladly die this evening at 8

After that role in the hay, I’m beyond sated

What a roll in the hay, hey, now roll up some hay to blaze

Putting witch-sussing flames onto a gameplayer

North the wall where we hail from, player

Raised on glaciers, in permanent hail, no braziers.