Ironopolis - Where alchemists Were born Below Cleveland’s hills [IP]

Into the fire I toss the pig iron scraps,

I wait my time while the hot flashes transmute,
Golden light stripped of form,
Flash frying in a pan,
My shards of glass shielded from the blast
Add a little sugar
Sweeten the brew,
Transmutation is over,
Out comes the philosophers stone.
And another..
And another..

Until the golden egg is laid
Before my very eyes, sits a well wrapped lie,

Gently I tap into it.
Slowly the lie of truth is hatched
Another small town alchemist turns iron to gold

The knowledge is so common these days
Its barely worth the story being told.