Alchemisland

Looking at places in Tonga, like Cook when he came that way

Flight back from the Congo, took long I thought disdainfully

In the airport waiting for my belongings, stained bag’s maiden

Thought Mokele Mbembe was real but I was wrong, hail Satan

Doing lines like I was leading a wedding conga

Only rock the boat when I’m trying to conquer

Dandruff snowing from my bonce, owing to the haunting African sun

Bad fur day since last Thursday, know the feeling, Conker

Wedges of wonga, Ziploc bags stymying pongs

Fireflies alighting, thanks for lighting my bong

All my rivals fighting, arrivals is thronged

I’m there holding a sign for Mr Chronic

Pulled aside her thong, made her lick the bonnet

Drinking Scotch, getting Johnny Rotten on her body

Jellies and hellbound, how I get my jollies

Jolly when I’m dom, odd that she’s a sub

Given her aggression in the club

Mouth agape, begging for cum

My flesh weapon plunges her clunge.