Carnival Hellsteed 
Still I Rise
You may lock me up in Zendikar
With hedrons and Ugin’s Eyes
You may have your land-themed block,
But when all is dust, I rise.
Does my casting cost upset you,
Clutching blades or seals of doom?
‘Cause I walk with the girth and heft
Of every fatty boom-boom?
Just like auto insurance premiums
When car with car collides,
Like a credit card’s annual fee,
Still I rise.
Did you want me unplayable?
In a shoebox, hid from human eyes?
With day eaters and wurms autochthon
To hear my soulful cries?
Does my ETB scare you?
Are you pained to hear the talk,
Of four cards drawn, a 187
Or a fifteen power time walk?
You may tap your collared sparkmage,
You may cut me from your 60,
You may kill me with the legend rule,
But still, like bread, I rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Do my tentacles surprise?
‘Cause I get tapped like a pin-up girl
By a million Japanese guys?
Up from a polymorphed plant token,
I rise,
Up from Makeshift Mannequin in response,
I rise,
I’m a late game control mirror topdeck,
Cast hard — improbable, like a clear-skied thunderclap,
Crashing MODO with a torrent of redacted f-bombs.
I rise,
To an environment tailored to make me plausible,
I rise,
Like a heaping cone of mispronounced gelati,
I am the dream and the hope of the fatty.
I rise,
I rise,
I rise. And Still I rise.
