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When I write, I'm a savage Randy Macho.
Put you down quicker, then hands of Camacho.
In my tepee, smoking more than Navajo.
The head hancho, with more cheese than nacho.
Making my Marx, just like Groucho.
The Lone Ranger, that means no Tonto.
A soldier in this Blood Sport, call me Bolo.
Cause life's a merry-go, so round and round we go.
The Lord Of The Ring, no Sam, no Frodo.
For those acting up, disapear like a DoDo.
Never seen again, like after your funeral.
I talk facts, not the stuff found in toilet bowls.
If I ain't nice, than there's no such thing as miracles.
Like Murray, the most beautiful.
Thing is what I bring, from the spirit, down to the marrow.
Bullseye, like playing darts and arrows.
Bringing more fire, thean the depths down below.
To warm up my heart, thats been beatimg so cold.
Reasons for living, somewhere in the fold.
So I'll keep skating, until I score a goal.
And break the mold, recast into something my kids
can behold.
You know, someone they would call a hero.
Possibly, allowing the Lord to open the gates when he
sees my soul.
I doubt it, but hey, you never know.
Sometimes when you shoot for the stars, you end up in
a black hole.
Meaning, though there's no limit, you still need to know.
When to let go of the gas, or its over the cliff, and down you go.
Geronimo, but I hit the ground on ten toes.
Cause I Knows, for every death, another one grows.
So I avoid it being mine, by making moves like Wesley So.
Throw on my cape, up, up, and away I go!
Into a distant universe, touching the impossible.
And break bread with the God's, observing the most
knowledgeable.
Staying tru, and if you do, you can sit at the table, after
the dues.
To clash with the Titans, you have to become one to.
