Atop the Purple Valley
A cantankerous crack doth hang
Where men are loath to challenge
But some don't give a dang
The impetuous cower about the base
A fist and a foot and she is in your face
An elbow brachioradialis inside her flexed
A high foot on chossy plates -- perplexed
Back pressed firm and toes on the ceiling
Why can't I be on "What's left of the Beenling"?
Turn around and face this bitch
Failure will come with a minor glitch
Grasping for victory, hands up in her
Without any air how can one endure?
Knees in your face and muscles like cement
Cams won't fit in this predicament
Just keep on moving and feel her out
No strength left but you're not allowed to doubt
You feel a groove but can't hang on
Keep moving so you can sing your song
At the lip the mantel doth beckon
As you gasp for air and will be off any second
Foot smeared tenuously upon the face
God what am I doing in this place?
Dead muscles strain to pull you to the top
On top of her you fade away and drop
