Stretch these demons ‘cos you got it, dear boy – the wide world at beck and call

A pretty little lady speaks glowingly amidst simply this outlandishly high-fired thing

And we see you feel it all and at piercingly pulsating will to never adhere – again, you can manage to pardon your lambasted and bombarded self

When you took the level to another and settled our brainstormed souls

Nobody can ever get to see what you have miraculously achieved and that shall have to be the final line – unwind all of these crying-shamed times to allow an almighty and mixed up glory-hunt

Please, press pause-for-fought-thought
And peel your handsome eyes wider than the burning hot sun, perched upon your very own bespoke and intertwiningly imaginative string
Scintillate to radiate in equally imploring measure

They treasured you even when your mind blinded your character outright
And for that … no words can ever suffice

It was supposed to be so very easy
All of the sight and none of the feels – reeling to toil-destroy inside

And then, they said that the come-on-up-for-air would be simply glorious. and he almost very nearly feels it

Smile soon as you see him, because he is doing all of everything – next to nothing – to win