So I guess you could call it an anniversary
You know it’s been two years
Connecting to mumble, joining Reaper 1
And being greeted by groans (or cheers!)
Seven hundred and thirty days of Sharpe
And that pizza song that’s still in my head
The king of jetpacks with his ire at greenies
A Welshman shouting “shit the bed!”
dnaRIP, our leader from the colonies
He knows not to play football with your hands
A master tactician from Washington (not DC)
But Pointy’s still shocked when his Galaxy lands
Two years of Jeff, a Cockney gent
He loves all those vehicle plays
Though rumour has it that to get a directive
He sat in his Sundy for days
Stubek with his camera, Binary in a Lib
Pure loves NS guns without fail
And the question that sits on everyone’s lips:
“When will Londo get thrown into jail?”
So when you read this snapshot into my two years
And your thirst for bad poetry is sated(!)
As bPostal would say, the best place to be
is “Better Red than mother fuckin’ Dead!”
You know it’s been two years
Connecting to mumble, joining Reaper 1
And being greeted by groans (or cheers!)
Seven hundred and thirty days of Sharpe
And that pizza song that’s still in my head
The king of jetpacks with his ire at greenies
A Welshman shouting “shit the bed!”
dnaRIP, our leader from the colonies
He knows not to play football with your hands
A master tactician from Washington (not DC)
But Pointy’s still shocked when his Galaxy lands
Two years of Jeff, a Cockney gent
He loves all those vehicle plays
Though rumour has it that to get a directive
He sat in his Sundy for days
Stubek with his camera, Binary in a Lib
Pure loves NS guns without fail
And the question that sits on everyone’s lips:
“When will Londo get thrown into jail?”
So when you read this snapshot into my two years
And your thirst for bad poetry is sated(!)
As bPostal would say, the best place to be
is “Better Red than mother fuckin’ Dead!”
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