Kobe Twenty Four Seven

Soon, I must awake From this deep, traumatized, Deadly, dreary, doomed, dream Of the devil and it's advocates Afflicting my mind Like a plague; A ferocious flash flood With a dubious proclamation: Ah! the great mamba is gone? An Iroko tree has fallen! The wicked, cold, cruel, Clamy, claws of death Has stricken Los Angeles, And the world With a plague deadlier Than Pharaoh's and his kinsmen On the day of Passover Momentarily, the dreary, deadly Wings of darkness Has overshadowed and blanketed Los Angeles, eclipsing the brilliant, Illuminating light which shone Forty one years over the world Stealing away our sobriety The great mamba? This must be a dream! Soon, I must awake From this dreary, doomed slumber To the reality That: the great mamba is not dead! He is peacefully sleeping Twenty four seven with the lord Death you goofed on this one Kobe, just scored a three pointer Against the cold, clamy, claws of death! Rest in peace Kobe!