WTC: Week 1

Magnifico

I walk to the ring to mariachi music,
But as the rudo comes out, there's a mass of booing,
Two luchadors, set for action tonight,
Wrestling this match with the spirit that it's the last of my life,
It's a fight for the title, and the win is pivitol,
The signs are held up, reading my name; Magnifico,
The crowd collaborates as they stand in love,
With every slam or punch and every Camel Clutch,
Each cheer an addiction and I am a user,
Constantly high with each flying maneuver,
Physical artistry, pictures painted in fights,
Moonsaulting my way past every care in my life,
Put my all in the match against this villainous foe,
And with the people behind me, I land the finishing blow,
The fans begin sensing the impending ending; the tension rests on our shoulders,
A count of three is administered, they ring the bell and it's over,
An audience full of applause, awe and admiration,
A masked sensation staring out to mass of ecstatic faces,
We stand ovated, I slap their hands as I'm walking through,
With my arm raised high all the way to the locker room,
Sloping down on the bench, my head pools in my hands,
One knot at a time, I start removing the mask,
With each untied, I'm transforming back,
From an icon of immortal stance to a normal man,
Magnifico stands tall for heart and prestige,
But his fans know not of the card up his sleeve,
An image so strong, not tainted by weakness,
But as an actual being, whiskey stains on my deep breath,
Their views of this figure, full of knowledge and wisdom,
Would be dashed if they found the alcohol in his system,
Magnifico, a defender of justice, one that's shouting the truth,
Me? A former frequent offender of constant spousal abuse,
The mask sports a red leather pattern with blue trim,
The type of colours that mimic burst noses and bruised ribs,
Inside, a sweaty shield which keeps reality back farther,
With my ex-partners name enscripted in black marker,
It's beginning to fade, right along with it's sentiment,
I'm holding a mere prop, and I actually envy it,
He has a legion behind him, that will never be burned out,
While I sit in a cramped room, alone on a burst couch,
He lives in paradise, I live in regret,
While the mariachi music still rings in my head,
Magnifico, to me, is a kind of escape,
Cause while I'm wearing the mask, I'm just hiding my face.

Magnifico

I walk to the ring to mariachi music,
But as the rudo comes out, there's a mass of booing,
Two luchadors, set for action tonight,
Wrestling this match with the spirit that it's the last of my life,
It's a fight for the title, and the win is pivitol,
The signs are held up, reading my name; Magnifico,
The crowd collaborates as they stand in love,
With every slam or punch and every Camel Clutch,
Each cheer an addiction and I am a user,
Constantly high with each flying maneuver,
Physical artistry, pictures painted in fights,
Moonsaulting my way past every care in my life,
Put my all in the match against this villainous foe,
And with the people behind me, I land the finishing blow,
The fans begin sensing the impending ending; the tension rests on our shoulders,
A count of three is administered, they ring the bell and it's over,
An audience full of applause, awe and admiration,
A masked sensation staring out to mass of ecstatic faces,
We stand ovated, I slap their hands as I'm walking through,
With my arm raised high all the way to the locker room,
Sloping down on the bench, my head pools in my hands,
One knot at a time, I start removing the mask,
With each untied, I'm transforming back,
From an icon of immortal stance to a normal man,
Magnifico stands tall for heart and prestige,
But his fans know not of the card up his sleeve,
An image so strong, not tainted by weakness,
But as an actual being, whiskey stains on my deep breath,
Their views of this figure, full of knowledge and wisdom,
Would be dashed if they found the alcohol in his system,
Magnifico, a defender of justice, one that's shouting the truth,
Me? A former frequent offender of constant spousal abuse,
The mask sports a red leather pattern with blue trim,
The type of colours that mimic burst noses and bruised ribs,
Inside, a sweaty shield which keeps reality back farther,
With my ex-partners name enscripted in black marker,
It's beginning to fade, right along with it's sentiment,
I'm holding a mere prop, and I actually envy it,
He has a legion behind him, that will never be burned out,
While I sit in a cramped room, alone on a burst couch,
He lives in paradise, I live in regret,
While the mariachi music still rings in my head,
Magnifico, to me, is a kind of escape,
Cause while I'm wearing the mask, I'm just hiding my face.