"Only In America"

He rose from his bed,
With his shoulders at mass.
And he soon realized,
His head was like glass.
With no recollection,
Of the previous night.
He could only assume,
That he got in a fight.
With a man so bold,
As to beat him like this.
Could he have really,
Only used his bare fists?
From this he could take,
That he needed to rest.
And hope that he at least,
Gave that man his best.
Because nobody likes,
But him most of all.
To go out like a sucker,
Or to have to take a fall.
But when your career,
Slowly starts to fade.
All you can do is hope,
Your checkbook will stay.
Because there is no such thing,
As shame in the mind,
Of a washed up fighter,
Who's way past his prime.
As long as he has,
His dollars and cents,
He no longer needs,
Any championships.
From this we will learn,
That money will steal.
All that you lose,
And everything you feel.

A common end to a common end.