THAT DAMN GOOD
Back in the year '97,
I was only 8 then,
He joined a group, DX it was called,
Radical, rude, extremely bold.
No clue what jokes were about,
Can't remember who's who they took out,
Naïve, innocent, this young mind,
Missed such group, a one of a kind.
Fateful night, May 21, 2001,
While our coverage of his shows were still gone,
He suffered an injury so devastating,
A torn left quad I missed seeing.
Nonetheless, proud he made me,
My favorite superstar now is he,
With passion and extreme love for the business,
Continued the match with no second guess.
Nine years from '97, back is DX,
This time, less pranks, curses and sex,
But I still enjoy watching as much,
In history, I have yet to see such.
Five years after the return so triumphant,
Current feeling of mine is so adamant,
The other quad again he had torn,
Made all who love him be forlorn.
History indeed does repeat,
Whether it be a downfall or feat,
Enjoying DX to the maximum,
But four to six months without him, I'll be doomed.
Though true, it's fortunate, he's still alive,
But a child his got, who's only months of five,
Whatever happens though, I'm rest assured,
He'll be fine because he's THAT DAMN GOOD!
