Slowly, He raises his head to the crowd
Triumph: a look seldom seen upon the face
Defeat: a look never seen upon the face
Turn, Turn, Dodge, Jab
Blood on the mat,
What is that?!
A tooth, embedded in the glove of a champion.
Forever shall he reign.
King over all who follow his wide gait
The Ring Leader, in the truest of its uses
SMASH! Goes the fist,
Down goes the foe,
Da**, he is pi**ed!
What does he know?
Clang! Clang!
Round 12
Spit
Sip
Snort up the pain
Calm is the face of the one who can read through the sweat and blood
The word written on the belt that hangs in the hallowed halls of the mind
“VICTOR”
Push, shove
Bruise
Beat
Then the crowd is on their feet!
A hit to the jaw was all that it took
Down
Down
Down
Down
Fallen from the pedestal of fame and glory
And the prize shrinks from the sight lines,
As the once clear picture becomes fuzzy.
A distorted image of the one who has knocked down
He who never worked a day in his life
And had everything given on a silver platter
And, slowly, The Fighter,
In all his splendor
Raises his head,
Surveying the crowd
Those who believed are the ones who remain
The others are gone.
And he stays,
His place forever set at the table of gods
Like all those whose lives are memories that live on in the glory of the moment
The moment when the arm is raised, in victory
Triumph: a look seldom seen upon the face
Defeat: a look never seen upon the face
Turn, Turn, Dodge, Jab
Blood on the mat,
What is that?!
A tooth, embedded in the glove of a champion.
Forever shall he reign.
King over all who follow his wide gait
The Ring Leader, in the truest of its uses
SMASH! Goes the fist,
Down goes the foe,
Da**, he is pi**ed!
What does he know?
Clang! Clang!
Round 12
Spit
Sip
Snort up the pain
Calm is the face of the one who can read through the sweat and blood
The word written on the belt that hangs in the hallowed halls of the mind
“VICTOR”
Push, shove
Bruise
Beat
Then the crowd is on their feet!
A hit to the jaw was all that it took
Down
Down
Down
Down
Fallen from the pedestal of fame and glory
And the prize shrinks from the sight lines,
As the once clear picture becomes fuzzy.
A distorted image of the one who has knocked down
He who never worked a day in his life
And had everything given on a silver platter
And, slowly, The Fighter,
In all his splendor
Raises his head,
Surveying the crowd
Those who believed are the ones who remain
The others are gone.
And he stays,
His place forever set at the table of gods
Like all those whose lives are memories that live on in the glory of the moment
The moment when the arm is raised, in victory

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