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.