As the world stands still, as I risk it all for my one big, nagging mistake, I see him, only him.
Those soulless, formidable eyes I’ve glanced at for years on end, those cold pupils of his gaze.
Standing defiantly across from him, sliding my fingers across my throat, devil to my seraphim –
So starts the battle; for me, it’s to atone for the year priors, for him it’s one of many Sundays.
It was only one nagging, bitter mistake, yet it sits at the back of my mind, that unlucky botch,
One of which he had capitalized on sending me to my grave of turmoil and embarrassment.
So long I spent – so long I waited for that stinging defeat to subside, ‘til no longer I would watch,
Watch that fight unfold as my arrogance so failed me, knocked me down, no more heaven sent.
You, you and me
One thing was certain – one single important thing on my mind – beat him or I have no career.
It has to mean something, letting Jericho get the win above him, and turning my back on Hunter,
All of it to get his attention; he can refuse me all he wants, but like it or not I will still be here.
I won’t be a statistic, staring at the lights to the soundtrack of his celebratory gong and thunder.
Brawling, dodging, and slapping, he can kiss my ass – Lord grant me this one thing to prove,
Let me bring the heartbreaks, let me fight, push, crawl or let me fall by Tombstone or Last Ride.
Everything I am on the line this night, all that I can muster ‘til I get the bastard to at last move,
Wholly I will give myself to rid myself of this nightmare, wholly I fight to see if I’m truly alive.
And if I could, I’d make a deal with God
So – it begins, and I bring the might of the heavens upon him, saw my opening on his knee,
Counters me in kind, with Chokeslams, suicide dives, and his submission, dreaded Hell’s Gate.
A Streak he covets, a career I’ve cherished, Sweet Chin Music in his Graveyard Symphony.
It must end, the show must not go on – the streak must end this night, or I must, for it is our fate.
No matter how much I climb up this hill, I keep falling down – I find it in me to tune up the band.
Even as he staggers, unsure where he is, in this human moment of his I feel his chin in my kick,
The smack of which my hopes were sent, could this be it, could I get the pin in victory so grand?
As always, it is nothing to him, like a bothersome bug, I might as well have been a measly prick.
And get Him to swap our places
He had carved out this massive legacy greater than any other victory, grander than any titles,
Toppling many giants, legends, absolute powerhouses while evoking vibes of the supernatural,
And I have been the Showstopper, Mr. WrestleMania, the Heartbreak Kid, the Shawn Michaels.
Acrobatic maneuvers, opposed to his stiffness, I, a degenerate fought with the heart of a radical.
Should this be it, Lord let me go out on a high note; You accepted me, cleansed me of toxins,
Cleansed me in Your Holy Water – as one man entered, an entirely different man left that water.
Years, years I have spent my time in becoming a better man, devoid of these past wicked sins.
As my heart pounds as I kick out at the count of two, Lord, lead not Your Lamb to the slaughter!
Be running up that hill, be running up that road
Our bodies wear upon us, yet we continue – I, frayed and exasperated; he, weaker and gaunt.
I’ve done everything I have needed to do in this career with steely reserve, fighting with sinew.
A decade ago, this wouldn’t be possible, now I fly off of turnbuckles and ropes in Moonsaults.
Even so, the Reaper and I can’t do this for much longer; we rise the same, no vigor renewed.
While we lay among the wreckage and carnage wrought of the newly destroyed announce table,
I am the first to be on my feet, and he knows not where he is – almost falling over the barricade.
Guiding him towards the ring, his knee broken, he falls, to then climb the ropes, no longer able,
Able to get on his feet, face the Sweet Chin Music, to then slam me to the ground where I stay.
Be running up that building,
Undertaker, ever-so formidable, brings me to an end with this inevitable finisher: the Tombstone.
Or so he thought, as I kick out – though I can’t see, I can sense him staring out in disbelief.
In that exact instance, my career flashed before my eyes, the highest of high, the lowest of low.
I don’t think I can do this anymore, I can’t beat him, so I give it my last, and won’t leave in grief.
For just this moment, the buzz of the crowd isn’t there, nothing but his footsteps on the ring.
Dropping the sleeves from his shoulders, he readies the Tombstone Piledriver, stops… looks,
Looks as I crawl up the mountain that is his body, pleading “Stay down!” – forgets I’m the king.
I rise, I close out with the gesture I started this match with – finger across my throat, he’s shook.
If only I could, oh
For once in his seemingly immortal life, I see this one rare instance of the Phenom as human.
That rare instance disrupted, with a firm slap as the spit and sweat flies and he turns around,
Turns with a face crimson with rage and eyes of silky white, picks me up and then I am done.
A piledriver and a count of three ends; the crowd is there again, roaring as I lay on the ground.
The stadium lights casting their warm glow on my freed soul and career
The Phoenix Sunset setting the stage for my final act
As I realize, within my own virtues, that the end is here.
To gracefully hold up my own end of the deadman’s pact.
You don’t want to hurt me, but see how deep the bullet lies
I asked for this, all of this, just for that one last chance – maybe it was fate, maybe it was God.
Now, nothing except the walk I make, the same that Austin made; here I finish my swan song.
Going up the ramp, I’ll surely miss this, but my family needs not the Heartbreak Kid, but Shawn.
Doesn’t hurt me that I am just another number, but made no mistake, I have righted this wrong.
The Heartbreak Kid has left the building.