Email Poem

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Personal Note:
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Poem
Can't Punk this game, this game is not made to be punked/
I'm not just any grain, I'm the one grain that stands out/
You used to be planted here, now you're just a stump/
And since you think you're criss cross, I'll make you jump/
Trying to punk this game, you're wasting your time/
And time is money so you not making a dime/
You're facing a steep hill, it's something to climb/
It's too hard to swallow, your mind is never mine/
When you think, it's blank, so your checks are the same/
You're running around in circles, it's an endless game/
You can call for my help, but you can't call for free/
You can start by calling 1 800 I need a beat/
Or you can call 1 800 set me free/
And beg me please, because it's me that you need/
I can give you some pointers, and show you the moves/
But it's more than just talent, you need the groove/
You need the shoes because you can't walk in mine/
So if you tell yourself you can, you'll just be lying/
This game is not for everyone, I set the bar/
And I'm too efficient, so I'm setting it far/
If this game can be punked, I wouldn't be the best/
And from the eye test, I passed every test/
Dotted every I, crossed every t/
The jury is out and I never took a plea/
Because I never done the crime/
I know I shine the hardest, they call me LED/
The greatest of my time, I'm the young Bruce Lee/
You can call me a King but I'm really a God/
I set off drums, I shred that guitar with a simple head nod/
You see the head bob, that means they feeling me/
Every show I do, I sweep the stage clean/
In the metal game, I made my house of stone/
You made your's of stone so your house is gone/
I huffed and puffed and blew it away/
The big bad bully and I'm clearly here to stay/
This metal game is punk proof you can't Punk this game/
Maybe once before but this another time frame/
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