I'll Be Fit For this Town When the Shit Goes Down

Formation of these BattleGems
Demonstrate variations of stratagem
No waiting for Salvation of the Map of Men
My vocation is to make it as the last of them!

Whether I’m aware of some mad rating me?
I never care if others are evaluating me
I’m the Geek Pyre of Greek Fire the Phoenicians hired!

All day long!
So baiting me only creates bombs!

Bombs unchained for free
Don’t restrain me
Like Lon Cheney, baring his whole…

Werewolf!
Howling soul to disperse fact from fiction
Like the Wolf in Jack Nicholson!

Bleak nights dare to hold me tight and share
Like cheek pinches and gore-stories
From Hera as my Grandmare!

Cheeky with a silver slit tongue
And the antique sliver of a Brit Punk
I speak and jig to be heard
Beak like Big Bird.

I’m down to edu-tain! Clowning fed my brain!

Dividing unique treats like chaff from wheat
Sliding freaky technique to keep tracks sweet
Riding the mystique I peaked
Open wide to spit Greek Fire when I speak!

So each liar drops like WikiLeaks
Popped, playing hide and go shriek!
I write songs to wreak wrongs
Delightfully sleek

Lore handles what’s next to seek
I’ll strangle an OPEC sheikh
Before my language is set to chic!

A baby nation with such complacent
Preoccupation with silk and money
Overtaken by the Patron Saint of RUN ME!
Barely acquainted with the awaken

What’s natural and magical waiting
Blacksmith’s apron, milk and honey
Stack your wishes and run the sum see
Magic slips like the synesthetic fragrance of sunny

Anticipation in this love gets me above another day or three.