The silver in my hair is no longer a texture pack, and the digital age I once mimicked has finally claimed my bones, but the game is far from over.
If I am the old man I played at the start,
Then I’ll play him with fury, with thunder and teeth.
There’s a legendary engine inside of this heart,
And a blade that is sharper for staying in sheath.
We aren’t just survivors of digital wars,
We are the architects, grounded and grim,
Still kicking down doors and settling scores,
Riding the tide till it reaches the brim.