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On blackened earth and bloodied soil

With withered hands the wizard toils

He stirs his cauldron full of oil

Wiz nʼ magic are embroiled...

Can u feel the wizard grind?

Sunken chest and sunken eyes, skinny legs...

Heʼs a wizzed-out mystic living in a cave

Smoking lots of dope

Heʼs been awake for days!

Teeth like magic crystals

Lips adorned with pap

And should u get a whiff

Breathʼs like coffee mixed with crap!

Can u feel the wizard grind?

Heʼs 17, but he looks 65

Skinny legs and hollow eyes,

Beard of dreads attracting flies...

Sucked in face!

Hearing voices in his head

Stop him getting in to bed

Hold the scepter, wear the cape

Insomnia; thereʼs no escape!