Plot it out, with pens in spiral notebooks.
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Demon squads and foes with grappling hooks.
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Write it down; only two dimensional.
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Make the killer death rate intentional.
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Master of diagrams you all must obey.
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Got to be good enough to make it one day.
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Develop wicked maps, trap doors- so cliche.
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Light-gun blasts aliens and tanks all away.
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Sometimes when the talk gets too lackluster-
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LCD handheld: so I won't suffer.
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Anne thinks my talent is all but precious.
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When I make it big-league, she'll be jealous.
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High-scores flicker, since dinner, without care or worry.
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Cereal bits, underneath napkin sketch: red crayon- so blurry.
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It's getting late, half-awake, ambition grown duller.
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Soon fast asleep, tucked safe in bed, dreaming in 16 colors.
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Master of diagrams you all must obey.
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Got to be good enough to make it one day.
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Develop wicked maps, trap doors- so cliche.
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Light-gun blasts aliens and tanks all away.
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-----------------
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Master Of Diagrams
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| Totally Radd!! |
