You clawed, you grabbed, you did unspeakable things,
For trinkets, pride, and alien flings.
But now the time has come to kneel—
To honor someone very real.
He’s got the hair, the robe, the gaze,
The abs that launched a thousand plays.
He’s watching close from candlelight,
Behind the bar, just out of sight.
No need to climb or reach or pry—
Just look the barkeep in the eye.
Whisper this line with reverent glee:
“I seek the light that burns for me.”
If they nod and pass you flame,
You’re one step closer to Last Ditch fame.