They Call Me Frying Pan

They Call Me Frying Pan by Jita FM Black-dog hull from Legion’s pride, Painted killmarks down her side; Intaki steel, Caldari spite, Missiles hum hymns to the night. Skirmish math and caffeine hands, Warp disruptor wedding bands; If you think I’ll brawl, you misunderstand I kite your ego across the land. Second-fast beast in the battleship pen, Faster than your excuses when you die again. My leash is glass, my heart’s in bash Point’s out long, and your dreams just crash. They call me Frying Pan, because I cook with flair, Overheat the rack, don’t even care; They call me Frying Pan, burn…