As the snow flies, a young man is taught,
His teachers were the streets and the fighters of Japan
The young man roams the streets at night,
Where he learns how to survive and learns how to fight
And his hunger burns.
As the world spins furthermore, the young man breaks away
Promises to his mama that it’ll all be worth it
He grows up, avoiding cubicles and business,
For his dream is in the squared circle, under the lights
Yet nobody wants him.
Undeterred, unfettered, he wraps his fists and gets his bag,
Hoping someday to carry gold around his waist
Under the adulation of a roaring crowd.
He tells it to his mama, that this is his dream –
And his mama cries.
The young man stresses the championships will be worth it
That this is why he can’t give her a grandchild,
For the ecstasy of gold as drawn him in
Swallowed him whole, in its eternal stomach
This has to be worth it.
Fighting with or against competitors in the trenches
Ready to battle, ready to knuckle up
Every bruise, every wound, every injury
No one will stop the king on his way to the crown –
May it rest well on his head.
Fighting like Mistuharu Misawa and Kenta Kobashi
Dressed in the attitude of The Great One and the Texas Rattlesnake,
The cup runneth over in that quest for the prize
The twinkle in the eyes and that flashy smile cannot hide
Passion and heart deep inside.
There’s nobody that deserves anything, in his mind
The riches of life must be earned and fought for
That’s what mama and the streets told him
It’s a cold world so bundle up,
It’s bound to get warm.
With a fire to light up the scene and a blazing way with words
He chills the masses to the bone
A man of his own kind, a punk and a rebel
Who throws up a middle finger to authority and sports entertainment
No on carries that love like he does.
With affection for others that even he does not know of,
He is the one to depend on to have your back
It cannot be faked, it cannot be duplicated,
The words that come out of his mouth –
Venom, laced with love.
Fortune would have it, that a big stage was meant for him
On a day everyone was put on notice by Eddie Kingston
When he lambasted and foul-mouthed a man up top,
A man he saw as someone born with a silver spoon in mouth
And slammed him on thumbtacks.
As with the Touch of Midas, the allure of gold blinded him,
Turned him against friends and allied with worse ones
That crowd keeping him in the streets-mentality,
It took a helping hand from an old friend he stood against,
To pull him out of that dark hole.
Say what you will, he says, but living the life he had,
That moment when the countdown reached zero,
Life counting down with the explosives,
Anxiety rising and rising, until he collapsed on his former foe
In the midst of hell on earth.
With, or without his gang, Jon Moxley wasn’t going to die alone
Following a war of barbed-wire and fiery explosives –
Only for that to not be the case, never to be the case
For the foolish cleaner constructed a dud of a bomb
Jon and Eddie live to see tomorrow.
The fog had been lifted and Eddie saw things clearly
There was more to the chase
More to fame and glory
And it was there in true, unconditional camaraderie
A title as good as the belts.
Both men from a world of blood and guts,
Both having ran from places that did them wrong
Eddie – from a life of socioeconomic turmoil
And Moxley from a watered-down world
Aligned in devastating power.
When you hear that bell ring, when you hear music of the streets,
Know that is the soundtrack while people fight, fight for their dreams
As the knuckles hit the flesh and knees hit the stomach
All for the claim to the prize, and know the fight stops not there,
It stops as you pull the ladder down.
Know that someone fought to lower it down, that ladder –
Climb each rung, until you reach the very top
With the understanding people like Eddie battled for this,
For the hope that you can battle out of every dark pit,
Be it environmental or within your mind.
Never was he to become someone else,
He’s still the type to wear the brass on his fist
And punch your lights out, when his strong style doesn’t work
Until you’ve both bled that blood away,
Like some dying animals.
But no longer is he the man to turn on a good mate,
He’s not the one to turn on us, or the thing we love
Eddie understands this beautiful thing of ours,
And he fights for the name of it all,
For professional wrestling.
Kingston is the one to get back up after being beaten like a dog
And spitting out a bloody tooth with a grin,
Firm in the belief this opponent must be sent to the hospital
Staunchly in the approach he must end a career
And do it with no regrets.
This is the pain that he fought for, tooth and nail
With a fist made of iron and the other of steel
So, you better step aside, or you’ll wish you’ve died
And if the right one don’t get you, the other one will –
Can’t no one make him walk the line.
No one has the heart or the passion like he does
Nobody on any channel, nobody in any ring
Take it to your heart, for his is made of gold,
That he will get up each time he is knocked down
He can do this all day.
This world was turned upside down once he walked into Daily’s Place,
Heart and soul of the company made his name known on that big stage,
Eddie Kingston will stand tall, holding the belt, bathed in cheers,
It was worth it he says, with tears in his eyes and pride in his heart
As his mama cries.