Small rope,
Holds toes,
Full of electricity.
Stop and look,
Give and Go,
Are In the eyes,
Of endless fans.
When Life stops,
It turns around.
Black is white,
And white is black,
When small rope,
Kick it right.
Space is there,
Until it is not.
Being open,
Can be stopped.
Three are key,
To any triangle.
Which makes,
The space.
For your,
teammate.
Find your way,
To guide the light,
Using only Thunder.
When the last line,
Eyes; close with defeat.
You will feel endless joy,
As the net's release.
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