Posterity will show me to be

The greatest the world has ever seen, a genius among nonentities 


The Leadweight clash of the century,

February 31st, 2163

I was there, but could not see

Being a 3 foot 3 superfluous freak

Blinded by necks, upper backs and knees

Folded fat, flapped by the breeze 


Sun Sugar, in the red trunks

Sun Tzu, in the blue 


Both ran to the centre of the ring

While the rhinestone suit continued to sing 


Sun Sugar, a simple man, cut from coarse cloth

Sun Tzu, seeking strength from a snakeskin broth 


“Weighing in at

Six hundred pounds” 


I ran through legs to the front of the crowd

Sun Sugar came over in-between rounds 


Sun Sugar came over shook my fucking hand

He turned away, I shot him in the back

Sun Tzu raised his arms 


Crowned champ while Sugar bled on

No doctor on the scene - the audience won 


Eventually found, sentenced to life

Spent reading the letters of a million wives

Sun Sugar wouldn’t be shit without me

The youngest executioner in tabloid memory