Post by cyrenrxw on Sept 13, 2008 15:06:32 GMT -6
meaningful meals on pitiful plains
all wrapped in pows and ready to lay
before at the feet and at bended knee
of the King, of the God, of The Sickness...
... of thee.
He leaned into read the carefully worded, light-schedule contract.
In his thick suit, with his advancing age, he knew this would simply be to keep his blood flowing. To keep that spark of violence in his eyes.
He knew, beyond the shadow of the doubt, this was not going to be a new legacy. This was not going to be the XWF. This was not going to be NEWF, ICWF... this was not where he would finish his fame.
Simply, where he could hang his hat. Where he could still preach to the paupers yet feel strong, like oak.
This was just... to get by. To keep himself alive and fueled.
Or so he told himself... signing... the dotted line.
all wrapped in pows and ready to lay
before at the feet and at bended knee
of the King, of the God, of The Sickness...
... of thee.
He leaned into read the carefully worded, light-schedule contract.
In his thick suit, with his advancing age, he knew this would simply be to keep his blood flowing. To keep that spark of violence in his eyes.
He knew, beyond the shadow of the doubt, this was not going to be a new legacy. This was not going to be the XWF. This was not going to be NEWF, ICWF... this was not where he would finish his fame.
Simply, where he could hang his hat. Where he could still preach to the paupers yet feel strong, like oak.
This was just... to get by. To keep himself alive and fueled.
Or so he told himself... signing... the dotted line.