Mafia Returns

<Verse 2>
Deadly Sin and Curtis, laid the maps we used to climb,
Grin would grin and Satanta’ d sin, through cities lost to time.
Marietta held her corners down, with Iris at her side,
Chris Vaughn ran like thunder while Rorschach read the signs.

<Chorus>
They called it Mafia Returns, a world of smoke and fight,
Where T.S.C.O.S.P. lit pipes of war, and La Frat rode through the night.
From Czylhertz to the U.N., and 303’s last stand—
We lived, we schemed, we died, but GOD we made a clan.

<Verse 3>
There was Roco, Mr Evil Man, Stop Killing Me on cue,
Versace rocked a pinstripe while Corky broke a few.
Lilac Delaney whispered deals, Seyarah never blinked,
Clause McSlap-a-whore just laughed and ordered one more drink.

<Verse 4>
Thunderbutton struck at dawn, Shifty Bastard grinned at dusk,
Tetley steeped in silence, Spike Spiegel watched from just above the rust.
Fakeman wrote his legends in a dozen diff'rent hands,
While Uncle Nicky, Eepster too, were always making plans.

<Chorus>
They called it Mafia Returns, and every rat SkcoR knew the play,
With Scale and Flash-Fire, Ganelon, Toaly had their say.
We danced in virtual shadows, we bled in typed-out screams—
This wasn’t just a game to us, this was the place we dreamed.

<Verse 5 >
Warrior on two fronts served, Sherminator laid the field,
Optimus Prime and Telkin too, refused to ever yield.
Bunneh, Evsie, Selena (twice!), Manny Luchiano,
And Sprozza lurking round the docks with Brian Arao.

<Verse 6 >
Now some are gone, but not forgot—Will-C, Marco, Kev,
Insomnia still drifts through space, Silk we still revere.
They logged out with no warning, but they’ll never leave our lore,
We raise a glass, we light a pipe, and wait to see what’s more.

<Outro>
And Squishy,  Zebedee, Frankie Figgs, still watching from the void,
Toby, Enkindle, keeping peace while players are deployed.
So here’s to all the ghosts and gods of those old IRC fights—
We’ll meet again, in .45 font, beneath the Mafia lights.

2225/7500

<Verse 1> They built it from the ashes, from the bones of Mafia dot org, A world of pixel kings and rogues, each name a tribal warlord. Flying Pig came charging in, Anita played it cool, While Scarin carved her empire out in blood and broken rules. <Verse 2> Deadly Sin and Curtis, laid the maps we used to climb, Grin would grin and Satanta’ d sin, through cities lost to time. Marietta held her corners down, with Iris at her side, Chris Vaughn ran like thunder while Rorschach read the signs. <Chorus> They called it Mafia Returns, a world of smoke and fight, Where T.S.C.O.S.P. lit pipes of war, and La Frat rode through the night. From Czylhertz to the U.N., and 303’s last stand— We lived, we schemed, we died, but GOD we made a clan. <Verse 3> There was Roco, Mr Evil Man, Stop Killing Me on cue, Versace rocked a pinstripe while Corky broke a few. Lilac Delaney whispered deals, Seyarah never blinked, Clause McSlap-a-whore just laughed and ordered one more drink. <Verse 4> Thunderbutton struck at dawn, Shifty Bastard grinned at dusk, Tetley steeped in silence, Spike Spiegel watched from just above the rust. Fakeman wrote his legends in a dozen diff'rent hands, While Uncle Nicky, Eepster too, were always making plans. <Chorus> They called it Mafia Returns, and every rat SkcoR knew the play, With Scale and Flash-Fire, Ganelon, Toaly had their say. We danced in virtual shadows, we bled in typed-out screams— This wasn’t just a game to us, this was the place we dreamed. <Verse 5 > Warrior on two fronts served, Sherminator laid the field, Optimus Prime and Telkin too, refused to ever yield. Bunneh, Evsie, Selena (twice!), Manny Luchiano, And Sprozza lurking round the docks with Brian Arao. <Verse 6 > Now some are gone, but not forgot—Will-C, Marco, Kev, Insomnia still drifts through space, Silk we still revere. They logged out with no warning, but they’ll never leave our lore, We raise a glass, we light a pipe, and wait to see what’s more. <Outro> And Squishy, Zebedee, Frankie Figgs, still watching from the void, Toby, Enkindle, keeping peace while players are deployed. So here’s to all the ghosts and gods of those old IRC fights— We’ll meet again, in .45 font, beneath the Mafia lights.

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