Not my real name.
A violent warrior race,
With ridges and bumps on their face.
They're picking a bone,
Violating the zone,
And fighting all over our space.
This important Teutonic town,
Gained international renown.
It was split by a wall,
Buildings, people, and all,
Which many years later came down.
My stories are gory and creepy,
And sometimes can be rather weepy.
My writing is strong,
But it goes on so long,
When you're done reading, you'll be quite sleepy.
A bird that speaks over the door,
A heart that beats under the floor.
When you read my stories,
You'll encounter these glories,
And delight in unspeakable gore.
A man danced like he was in space,
And appeared to have altered his race.
When people asked why
He was so very shy
It was plain as the nose on his face.
(Name and initial)
Rubber, glass, rock, and flame,
These are the things which make our name.
And we use our new ability,
Righting wrongs with great facility.
A fat man, his children and wife,
And their baby make shows of their life.
The dog talks and drives,
And the household survives
All manner of humorous strife.
These musical men, it is said,
Create beats that would wake up the dead.
But in each club and bar,
No one sees who they are,
Due to costumes that cover their head.
I bring you the news of the day
From places both near and away.
Though that seems ideal,
The problem is real,
That each idiot must have his say.
A man with a knife for a name,
Will always be known for his Fame.
He had freaky eyes,
Of two different size,
And enjoyed universal acclaim.
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