Skin pounding blast beats like beast-bleating
The millionth time I’ve seen this band. Eves repeating
Like defeated minds beating-eaten.
Skin sounded a primitive tip off, clear as any beacon burning could signal:
Worms turning so be off. A tingle to signal tonight’s not the be all end all,
Count your singles, end the mingle then be off before anything kicks off.
No drink left to see off. Before I saw myself off leant over in the bog
Consulted a dandruffed mirror and licked off
A salting of nostrilly-assaultive No More Nodding Off;
That Bolivian Handcuff had me mangled,
Left whilst manned up and star spangled.
Alchemisland 
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