(Alfredo: Let me speak to you about the, uh, "anatomy of terror."

Prospero: Terror? What would you know of terror, Alfredo? Your senses are much too blunt! What is "terror?" Come.)

(Yeah, All-star Spack Out)

(Well clap your hands to what he's doing)

[Verse 1]

Always a pleasure, never a chore

Weapons of war

Buy 'em for less, sell 'em for more

Fire and flesh, metal and claws

Let the chemicals pour

See my red swelling eyes effervesce at the core

I'm like peace

In a bit apocalypse, shit

Ring me when you stop killing the impoverished

Polishing their offices

Spooks in a puddle dance

Loose in the rubble

Half juiced off a ton of grass

Rass, head spinning like the London Eye

Lullaby sung by a bloodsucking butterfly

See you on the other side

Rubber spine tingling

A twinkle in the sky got my stubborn mind whispering again

But I been sicker with the pen

Since a little a prick

Full of piss, vinegar and phlegm

I ain't similar to them!

I'm sitting in position with a blem

To witness the beginning of the end

So descend

Bruv, step into my office

Second on the left, full of medicine and vomit

Skeletons and closets

Wrestle the robotics

Praying to a shit-smeared electrical adonis

Step in like your retinas are buried in your pockets

With pebbles in your sockets

Pretending that you're honest

But never to my knowledge

See me on a cirrus cloud, living proud

Pissing out rivers on the bitter town

Kids, are you sitting down comfortably?

Cuz I'll be swinging fish from my livid fists

When they come for me

With skullduggery juggling up fuckery

Shovelling what's stuck in the gutters, the God's gluttony

Loving the drug drudgery, clucking for some company

Covered in dust gunning for nothing but dumb currency

Use your mind

Use it wonderfully

The future's right

The future's buttery

The future's bright

Cos when the nukes drop

And light up the skies

Then we'll shine like shoe shop's new stock

And I’ll be on the roof-top shivering, or

Stuck at a useless fucking computer, dribbling

One and a two, I tug at the roots of discipline

Rough as the gruesome bucket of soup I'm swimming in

But the sun and the moon are glistening

So Imma sit here, bunning a zoot and giggling

(This apocalypse was brought to you by Jam Baxter, in association with Kerem Brulee - and when your balls have fallen off and your eyes have turned to lava, remember - stay spacky!)

Oi Kerem man, change the fucking channel man, this is some bullshit