Post by ziggytartacus on Dec 3, 2012 22:49:48 GMT -5
So here is the less than glorious tale of the notorious,
the one, the only, ZiggyTartacus.
the one, the only, ZiggyTartacus.
It all started whence he was born,
A wonderful young lad, with the blood of Bjorn
As a child, he had very few friends.
Probably because he never once did cleanse
When he left his family's house,
His parents never cared about his whereabouts!
He failed school,
With the excuse "Oh, I'll just sell fuel!"
Once he grew to an appropriate age,
He never sold fuel, or even an ounce of sage!
Nothing would have made him happier but to have had a sale
To hid his sadness, he stuck with ale!
One day, he had enough of his failure,
He was going to be a sailor!
No navies wanted him,
His conclusion that he came to was rather grim
He said to himself "If nobody wants me,
Why not just stop trying to flee?"
So he found a tree on a cliff,
Made a noose and, without a last sniff, he jumped!
He was such a screw-up,
He even messed the noose up!
The noose slipped and lead him down,
Down the cliff face, to the ground.
There he broke his crown and breathed his last
His misery was at an end, and at the mercy of his past
But it didn't end there.
He didn't escape the air.
His last hope, revenge.
The world wasn't rid of his stench.
He was confused,
His spirit abused.
He wanted to complete what he didn't alive,
He wanted to leave a mark, to thrive
He realized that being dead wasn't all that great.
Even though he has no worries in his deceased state.
So the ghost of the one named Bjorn
Possesses those of whom felt the same scorn
He traveled across the land
He did what he was unable to have done, even join a band.
Hey, who knows.
Maybe he'll steal your clothes
Maybe he'll take your life.
Take it with a knife.
Maybe he'll help you.
Most other things are strictly taboo
That's where we leave our hero.
From zero to zero
Because you get back what you put in
And he didn't put in very much.
A wonderful young lad, with the blood of Bjorn
As a child, he had very few friends.
Probably because he never once did cleanse
When he left his family's house,
His parents never cared about his whereabouts!
He failed school,
With the excuse "Oh, I'll just sell fuel!"
Once he grew to an appropriate age,
He never sold fuel, or even an ounce of sage!
Nothing would have made him happier but to have had a sale
To hid his sadness, he stuck with ale!
One day, he had enough of his failure,
He was going to be a sailor!
No navies wanted him,
His conclusion that he came to was rather grim
He said to himself "If nobody wants me,
Why not just stop trying to flee?"
So he found a tree on a cliff,
Made a noose and, without a last sniff, he jumped!
He was such a screw-up,
He even messed the noose up!
The noose slipped and lead him down,
Down the cliff face, to the ground.
There he broke his crown and breathed his last
His misery was at an end, and at the mercy of his past
But it didn't end there.
He didn't escape the air.
His last hope, revenge.
The world wasn't rid of his stench.
He was confused,
His spirit abused.
He wanted to complete what he didn't alive,
He wanted to leave a mark, to thrive
He realized that being dead wasn't all that great.
Even though he has no worries in his deceased state.
So the ghost of the one named Bjorn
Possesses those of whom felt the same scorn
He traveled across the land
He did what he was unable to have done, even join a band.
Hey, who knows.
Maybe he'll steal your clothes
Maybe he'll take your life.
Take it with a knife.
Maybe he'll help you.
Most other things are strictly taboo
That's where we leave our hero.
From zero to zero
Because you get back what you put in
And he didn't put in very much.