Hear this tale of yore, grasshoppers, and younglings
Of ninjas, fighters, and spiritual distortion guides
Who jumped into scene one day, as the manatee spoke
Three warriors, like peppers, they came up fierce
Three songs, a trifecta, through hearts they pierce
Cobra vs Man, Cobra vs Heart, Cobra vs Shaaaaark.
Pint-sized ninjas who fought a style not many took
In the city of broken Steel mills and derelicts.
A first sight, next to Gallops, at Harley Dojo
Blessed were we, on Sunday’s twilight
To forgo seething haircuts, powerchords, and shirts
Replaced by keytars, samplers, synths, bass, and drums
Mighty yellow ninja, earthly sounds, gyrating stunts
Holy orange ninja, sounds barren of glitz, loamy gritty synths
Radical red ninja vs bad dudes, beating the drum, not winos and bums!
The mighty mission two, on which we received gems from them
In cameras, pints, cheeks, foreheads, and books
They marched through the gates, once more, of Dojo Harley
Banner unfurl, 8bit intro – gasp! Shall we bow or curl?
Another snake and crane attack, another mighty fiery punch
A dragon wise as Master Roshi, but into the darkness they had to jump back.
One last time were they to be seen, now with a fourth member
In the glitz and fishbowl enhanced Palace of the Rising Soyo
Hey Azziel! Black and white garbed defeater of the mantis greaser coif!
Sweet sounds and noisy atmospheres, samples of orient and occident alike
Together, for one last time, a final mission, vs a shithole of a website who today is seven
So, thanks for the mysticism, Cobra-Fist, we know it was a short mission
Hard as it was, you pulled it off, and now we wait ’til we meet again.