on the floor, don't you,
lying there in fetal submission,
the last of my fight circling the drain,
this time down for the count.
You don't know me, you son of a bitch.
I've taken on bigger, tougher, meaner, uglier
bastards than you and I've
cold-cocked them all.
So smirk all you want, pal,
because I'm about to knock you on your ass
harder than anyone ever has.
Just ask that group of swollen-faced idiots
lying spread-eagled on the arena's seats.
That is, if they wake up any time soon.
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