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He reads the bible every night
His cockney vowels are a delight
Golden ringed and clothing loud
Shadow boxing for the crowd
Thrills them with his wit

He's the once and future king
David sent out with his sling
The one who syndicates his pain
Who dies and is reborn again
In any face that fits

Figures shamble through his dreams
With double vision, ruptured spleens
Broken fingers, broken schemes
Broken men with bleeding brains
Who don't know when to quit

In the dressing room he waits
And tries to summon up some hate
Hardly hears the trainer's words
As like two tearing, screaming birds
They're thrown into the pit

The canvas leaps and hits again
Crimson shock waves, pain on pain
Swollen faces oozing gore
On his gloves and on the floor
Mingling with the spit

Now the old king's on his back
Backbone arched and pupils black
Now at last he can atone
For every hurt they've ever known
Now he can pay for it

The new king gives a last salute
His face a bruised and punctured fruit
The crowd cheers as he lifts his hands
I guess I'll never understand
How they can idolize a man
Whose job it is to hit.