Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping.
Long ago I heard that sound, often lost, but seldom found,
a haunting voice from minutes past, Micah had returned at last.

And I was like, "What's up dude?"
And he was like, "Uhhh, I found your comb."
And then I was like, "Shut-Up!"
And then he was like, "Yeah, and stuff."
And then I was like, "Rock on!"

And that's how the story ends, now you hear the score my friends.
We're finding answers, we're setting trends.
I guess that's how the story ends.

How distinctly I remember, it was in the bleak December,
and each dying ember, wrought its ghost upon the floor.
I heard a voice that chilled my spine,
I saw what I could not define, a sight I never could contrive,
there stood Brad at last, alive.
"Where have you been these endless years?"
I asked him, sobbing through my tears.
"I did not die by plague or prison, what really died is cynicism."

And then I said, "Awesome."
And he was like, "Yeah, I guess. And by the way, those pants,
they belong to my dad. And they're not really pants, they're leiderhosen." Hooray!

And Combat Chuck has passed away,
his dying wish was "Never play that song again".
And Kitty-Doggy's put to sleep, the dinosaurs lay in a heap,
as they slowly go extinct, like me.

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