Once there was a guy called Dave who was proper dangerous.
Approaching life’s problems he often came a cropper in a major rush.
Living each moment depraved, then one day he cracked and caved with little fuss.
Decidedly brave, he visited a shamen in the hope he could be saved.
And avoid an ignominious end in a shallow grave.
And there in the dark the shamen sat, fashioning cruel tools from a metal lathe.
Polishing a pile of small jewels wrapped in speckled chains.
Blowing thin smoke rings from a hookah in gentle waves.
Then, like a wretched knave, down sat Dave.
Soaked in sweat like a cheap chav’s aftershave.
Their chemistry was odd to see.
Something akin to master-slave.
Out of all the sorry cases, thought the shamen, Dave’s will be the last to save.
The kind of guy that sees a door closing, knows he won’t make it, but thinks ‘I’m gonna chance the gate.’
The kind of guy that misinterprets self-help books, sadly thinking ‘I’m going to make my mark today.’
Poor old Dave was as good as useless.
But the shamen sensed emotional bruises.
Mystery man Dave was pure pain and must be helped, no excuses.
So he broke out his tools and pills.
Lit candles for the walls and kicked back and chilled.
Then… in a madman’s wild rave began to slap childish Dave.
Getting all up in his grill.
At first he didn’t react.
He was brave and wanted to be saved.
Yet the darkness started to consume him in a haunted wave.
Sensing danger the shamen saw Dave’s true nature.
Then out the candles gave and his eyes went black and dark.
The shamen began to shake ashamed, thinking of the spells he cast.
He went to break away but Dave’s eyes glittered and held him fast.
Unfazed, he tried to match his gaze, brazen and as bold as brass.
But Dave the sinner became a black mirror, unrelenting and as cold as glass.
As Dave rose from his seat the shamen tried to lie through his teeth.
In an attempt to avoid what was about to pass.
But the magic man’s troubles were mounting fast.
Like a poker player counting cards he was riding his luck until the very last.
Cos here is where the shamen, a proper faker, came to his end and met his maker.
Some say he only tried to help Dave for the sake of it and was blameless.
Others say he was undone by both blindness and kindness.
Or that he failed to control the dark.
He just wasn’t decisive.
Whatever happened that tiring day a legend was born in the fiery fray.
Emerging from the rubble in a wiry way.
An animal no longer caged, but a beast that feasts on danger every day.
A heavenly creature, once a sad sack in pain but now the master and teacher.
Black eyes and twisted heart his least redeeming features.
For those that face him are thought either foolish or fearlessly brave.
Approach if you dare, the heart of darkness, that was once a man called Dangerous Dave.