Alchemisland

I had the task 

Of putting back together Little Bastard

Had been badly smashed 

Looked bomb blasted

A car you’d describe as bombastic 

We only knew the dangers after 

No crumble zone, going drunk Uncle can drinking speed fast 

You’d have to be either elastic 

Or an absolute spastic 

I suppose it’s very tragic 

Violence stuck in my head attic.