by Nevs Coleman

His Last Days

Well he fought the champ in Miami

Lost a bit of his brain

He took out a featherweight

Who was never quite the same

At 35, His body’d had enough

Of the square ring

But he was still out there

Commanded by the Ding Ding

In the end, he can’t stop fighting

In the end, he won’t stop trying

In the end, he can’t stop hoping

In the end, he won’t stop bleeding

His wife cries, tells him not to do it

She’ll leave him, she swears she will this time

Still he’s looking at his boots

Hears the crowd and feels just fine

Well, it’s a slug to the mouth

An uppercut to the skull

Crashes to the floor

Don’t feel anything no more

In the end, he can’t stop fighting

In the end, he won’t stop trying

In the end, he can’t stop hoping

In the end, he won’t stop bleeding

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