The Fallen Idol.
¶ 1
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The fallen idol vents his wrath
When blingers least expect it
Then the one true red with any cred
Heads toward the exit
¶ 2
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Tis right to be taken down a peg
When results do go agin
To feel the skippers rantings
As he tells you ” We must win”
¶ 3
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“Pack yer bag, yer past it, sad”
The whispers start to fly
“When you’ve scaled the heights that he has
Then ye can criticize”
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