Cobra Commander

What did you want to be
When you were little
Was your mother a black pyramid
Some ancient burial ground
Now furnished with computers
Your father was fear, but also industry
Shouting from your lair’s mezzanine
Like any good father
Clean your room, mow the lawn
You keep masks, one blue
The other silver, just like father

What’s it like having a son
Who wants to kill you
They say the blue is to hide
Your scarred face
But it’s really for sadness isn’t it
Another blue day
Followed by another blue day

What did you do
When they made a toy of you
Did you dream of children
Thinking you’re the good guy

To me, your home was an arcade cab
In a laundromat in Oregon

Is it hard to be a hero
When you’ve never won a battle
You lost every Saturday
In a ritual of death
We have that in common
You and I