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Map it out with pens in spiral notebooks,
Demon squads and foes with grappling hooks.
Write it down only two dimensional.
Make the killer death rate intentional.
Master of diagrams you all must obey,
Got to be good enough to make it one day!
Develop wicked maps, trapdoors so cliché.
Light gun blasts aliens and tanks all away!
Sometimes when the talk gets too lackluster,
LCD hand held so I won't suffer.
Anne thinks my talent is all but precious.
When I make big league, she'll be jealous!
High scores flicker, since dinner,
Without care or worry.
Cereal bits underneath napkin sketch; red crayon so blurry!
It's getting later, half awake, ambition grown duller.
Soon fast asleep, tucked safe in bed dreaming in sixteen colours!
Master of diagrams you all must obey,
Got to be good enough to make it one day!
Develop wicked maps, trapdoors so cliché.
Light gun blasts aliens and tanks all away!
You all must obey!
Make it one day!
Trapdoors so cliché!
Tanks all away!