Alchemisland

My drugs come upriver like a vole

Strong spliff burns my throat

Cold at the spot so I tighten the throw

Fasten it at the throat like a superhero’s robe

Counting out stolen souls

Talk about life goals, gold I’ve loads so what I hold’s kept loaded

Lucre makes a man loco, all my ropa proper, all got logos

Shotguns in the lock up, hot ones in crop tops 

When I throw it’s like shotput, nowhere I don’t crop up

Grey smoke all over the shop, like a cropdust

Drop by got croplust, got jawbusting pills

Ballbusting collectors for welchers on bills

My head is spinning like the wheel at the mill

My wheels are spinning at the sight of the Bill

Pale like I’m frightened, friends ask if I’m ill

Querying where I’m dying, doing lines

Fuck it, ignore the signs and keep walking along that line

Struggling like I’m holding open the jaws of a lion while juggling

I’m selling the best blow in Dublin

This one hoe is trouble but she likes face fucking

Arrives caked up, leaves with it running like a Juggalo

I should and could do better I know but lino does for me you know

I’ve got the glow, that charisma showing

For what I’m stowing I’d leave bones breaking

Up through the skin poking, like we used cheap skins for what we’re toking

Use a bit of a skin to cover up the hole and keep blowing

Making smoke rings, mouth makes an O

Making so much I could afford a boat

Trapped in a circle, like the blue in the google chrome logo

It’s a trap, it’s a circuit, horse and trap around the circus maximus

I need to see Surtr urgently, repair my bird’s circlet

Rooting through what the dwarves had in surplus

She’s slurping down my Slurm then her shitter’s getting rooted

I won’t let anyone make a mountain out of this molehill

Smoke curling in the air like the toes of a ghost getting his hole

An ounce of skull-splitting blow and bags of snow from Lagos

If it comes in late, go Kratos, leave them fulla holes pondering fate

Looking for loot, smashing crates

Raze a spliff end so I can create

They went hungry while we ate

Pictures of ex wives all over the place, Henry VIII

Sword of Damocles shadows my pate, overhead like the guillotine blade

Don’t worry about deficits in trade, got the high grade belayed

Spliff went off like a pinless grenade, at the spot with my mates

If someone betrays it’ll be like their first day on skates

End up covered in scrapes, girdled by yellow tape

Can’t remember the last time I prayed

But I know why my guardian angel didn’t stay

He was dismayed, seeing me sinning day after day

But I had to keep at it, had to get my A 

Report cards all Fs, resort to fisticuffs, all hard lefts

Fiend asking for weed but I’ve only got hard left

Bright lights and sirens, pull into a cleft and park it

Lay low, ear spliff finally spark it

Volume up to fifty, ear split 

Up early, lark it

Inside pockets, that’s the market

Asking ginger Kate whether carpets match drapes.