[Intro] (Sound of a bubbling Chemex coffee maker) (Heavy, glitchy drum fill in 7/8 time) Alright safe, it is the artisanal revolution, innit? Forget the bathtub crank, we are going boutique. (Ninety-Eight Per-Cent pure, mind!) [Verse 1] I’ve got a sourdough starter and a bag of pseudoephedrine Cooking in a shepherd’s hut, the finest that you’ve ever seen We don't use the red phosphorus, that’s far too mainstream We use organic beetroot juice and a locally sourced dream My mate Maggot’s got a lab coat made of recycled hemp Filtering the product through a vintage coffee temp It’s a math-rock rhythm in the way the beakers clatter Five-four time signature for the gray matter. [Pre-Chorus] It is gluten-free, sulfate-free, and ethically produced The kind of high that gets the middle classes quite seduced We’re selling blue crystals in a sustainable wicker basket The most expensive way to end up in a bespoke casket. [Chorus] Oh, it’s the artisan meth lab, the Cotswold connection A hyper-literate hit for your chemical collection With a complex banjo riff and a poly-rhythmic beat The most pretentious drug-den on the Newport high street (Proper posh, innit?) (Hand-crafted habit!) [Verse 2] We use Himalayan pink salt for the final crystallization Tested on a focus group for maximum sensation The blue color isn’t dye, it’s an infusion of kale Grown in a vertical farm for a high-end retail I’m rapping in Seven-Eight while the mixture starts to bubble Avoiding the police and the gastro-pub trouble The Sergeant came around but he was blinded by the branding He bought a half-ounce baggie while his ego was expanding. [Pre-Chorus] It is gluten-free, sulfate-free, and ethically produced The kind of high that gets the middle classes quite seduced We’re selling blue crystals in a sustainable wicker basket The most expensive way to end up in a bespoke casket. [Chorus] Oh, it’s the artisan meth lab, the Cotswold connection A hyper-literate hit for your chemical collection With a complex banjo riff and a poly-rhythmic beat The most pretentious drug-den on the Newport high street. [Bridge] [Breakdown] (The beat shifts to an erratic 11/8 time with heavy glitch effects) (Aggressive whispering) Check the pH balance. Is the lavender oil organic? I can’t sell this to a barista if it isn't carbon neutral. (The copper’s at the gate!) (Hide the heirloom tomatoes!) (Hide the lab-grade bongs!) [Guitar Solo] (A frantic, technical math-rock guitar solo played on a nylon-string acoustic with heavy digital clipping) [Verse 3] The lab blew up at tea time in a cloud of quinoa dust The insurance claim was rejected for a total lack of trust But the fire was aesthetically pleasing, I have to say In a palette of muted earth tones and a soft dusty gray We’re moving to the Valleys to start a ketamine creamery With a farm-to-table approach and some lovely mountain scenery If you want the best buzz with a conscience that is clear We’ll be back with a pop-up shop by the end of the year. [Chorus] Oh, it’s the artisan meth lab, the Cotswold connection A hyper-literate hit for your chemical collection With a complex banjo riff and a poly-rhythmic beat The most pretentious drug-den on the Newport high street. [Outro] (The beat breaks down into a slow, distorted folk stomp) (Newport accent) Safe as houses, mate. Want to buy some locally foraged MDMA? (It’s infused with wild garlic) (Ninety-Nine Per-Cent organic) (Clip-clop...) [End]
