In some years time he'd be driving his Car
To many a festival where he'll play guitar
He'll play his sing-song tunes
To riff-raff beats
And sing his blue-bird lyrics
Many a stage he shall see
A famous man he will be
But oh, Dear Ben, it's been so long
Have you learned right from wrong?
Do people plague you with social etiquette
and cause you to worry and fret?
Don't be down, old bean
For in time, pain won't be seen!
Rejoice and dance with yourself
Put those doubts on the shelf
And set it aflame, ablaze, asunder
Let confidence roar like thunder!
That is it, I am spent
Perhaps in time I shall have some coin
With which to spend on more than rent
**
There is a man, Matthias the Kentzia
The man, the legend, the 'bestja'.
A man made to dare
Chest brazen with many a hair
Of Germanic descent and Maltese blood
Miles above those who live in the mud
Lover of Discipline and Imperium belief
With many a person he holds a beef
Some of these people he knows their face
The rest, one day, their IP he'll trace
They'll rue the day they fragged his ass
They'll wish they had a more respectable class
Thundering down with the raffica, akimbo
He'll leave you in martyrdom's limbo!