Walking into the gym, the inherent rush
Overcomes as I’m drunk on the sweat and blood
Fighters bounce on their toes with the weight of a feather
The heavy bag swings, more duct tape than leather
It’s not all nostalgia when the gloves are off
It wasn't every day that my father would love his job
We were the hidden family that he chose to hide
And everything seemingly changed just overnight
He came home, hurt, and started losing his head
With wounds so deep that Vaseline couldn’t protect
He flipped tables and broke lamps, I was fearful in his presence
Smashing mirrors to avoid ever seeing his reflections
Cursing both the serpent and himself for heeding the advice
Eyebrow bleeding at the side, knuckles red raw, steeping them in ice
At the time I was confused, why enter the home in such a venomous tone
Newspapers wrote, he turned friend to a foe, street fighting his mentor and coach
Stories entwined with lies and I just wanted the truth
Why he followed the group spearheaded by George Washington Duke
From that point, it all changed, it was the trouble and pressure
What happens to a paper champ who’s always under the weather?
See when I was young, I’d see my dad take the easy path and I’ve got to know
What unfolds if pops had chose to stick it out on the rocky road?
And now I’m here, I feel the air, the fact is this is home
My heart beating in rhythm with the slapping skipping ropes
It’s been about 6 years since he died, I used to come with dad
It feels only like yesterday that I last heard the mitts as they scuff the pads
I could have been big, a superstar which lived the dream
And now that sport has chosen to follow a different creed
The news broke, this kid has it all and even fights with his dad’s camp
Trained by the man that my father had decided to back-stab
A family hidden from the media? More like the forgotten one
No one cares about the unwanted son of heavyweight champion Tommy Gunn.
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