A bar at a blacksmith, as a thief at a fire, Mercurius here comes.
Is this "Les huit coups de l'horloge"? When eight bells toll, they find a corpse holding in the hand a rolling pin for making horse chestnut noodles. Maybe it was a scatterbrain in its lifetime.
My debt, I look back and up to, high diving I can see.
At an opium den, though my fingers touch a pussy.
Must be falling in love, because of devouring greedily, like a mantis.