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Take two steps back from that Goliath you fight, ears ringing stop swinging and a blinding light.
Just one moment demure the round, a dramatic pause to cure dramatic crowds.
They condemn the practice, they condemn the scene, but you'll play the part and they'll pay the green.
With every hit you take the crowd keeps cheering on,
you're grinding down but you feel you've won.
A man with vast oceans of thought, and mountain ranges at his feet;
nothing left but arid deserts, and no words with which to speak.
Your will to fight keeps you alive, your body functions to decay.
That fire inside has long since doused,
the best parts of you have atrophied.
Your glove is raised to the sky, but you're the only one in the ring.