Gotham the city of flight,
Where the moral and wicked fight,
Laughter rings throughout the dark
As the deranged leaves his mark.
He speaks for the mad,
and fails to recall what it is he had.
He see it as a amusement views me as a toys,
what he does he some how enjoys.
I've beat him time and time again,
though he still remains the most mysterious of men.
I once went to see him no mask, no cape,
Batman had returned him from another escape.
I walk to his cell "Bruce Wayne. Hi"
he wouldn't turn around, nor look me in the eye.
He didn't care who was behind the mask,
but there I stood "Dear Ol' Bats"
I knew then.
I was nothing to him.
But every plot so clever. So canny,
He's had so many chances,
but never glances.
Maybe it frightens him, the idea that I am just a man.
Unmasking me might bring back thoughts of how he began.
Maybe it helps him with his blind recollection.
Almost like the clown wouldn't feel succession,
The man with a ruby red grin.
He would come back to reality,
but what then?