Up Pompeii

Level playing field, I say what's this old boy.

Lying on the terrace of the moon temple,

I'm somewhat concerned to discover

It's not level.

What a mess.

It's 1997

- all I can think of is

Pink Floyd.

Teotihuacan,

My balcony,

A ball of squidgy,

A pack of Rizla.

What a trip,

No inhale, scared to trip.