Enter the parlor at your own risk,
nothing but animals in their.
It is too dangerous to take the
highway during twilight,
we may forget if its morning
or night. We shouldn’t miss the fight,
contenders wait with silence,
veterans holding on
to glory like vice grips.
The sad old man fills the bucket,
The ice is on ice,
So many will gather
being nice to the nice…
And now the moment
some have waited for,
cried and sighed over
screamed and scratched over
killed and snitched over
screwed and fucked over,
now our time has come,
and now it has run out.
Who calls the shots around
here? We had him at ten to nine,
some ten to eight,
who is to judge the outcome?
Show yourself!
Time to wake up,
time to get your shoes shined,
theirs a nice spot near the station,
to shine your shoes and your wits.
When the wits are sharp,
the battle is won
the match is settled,
and the band still plays,
while the children still sleep.
When drinks are poured and
wishes are met,
When hopes will soar
We won’t forget
The champ is poor
as he washes in sweat.
