When Dingo walks into a room, people will be like, "Oh shit, that motherfucker's cool!"
Dingo will just nod with a slow smile while making a perfect break at pool
You know Dingo's flow goes to your toes and tickles your nose like pinochio's grows
Dingo's rhyming you into throes at the close of his prose making you forget your woes

Damn! wouldn't it be sweet to complete this dream? Is it really as easy as it seems?
I mean, I've seen poets and rappers take this third-person coolness to the extreme

Dingo doesn't take shit, he makes hits, taps clits, with wits in everything writ
Nothing compares to it, no one else can fit into Dingo's grasp of it, don't have a fit
Just because Dingo's style's the shit, making girls undulate, go home and masturbate and still can't satiate
Without Dingo's tongue to contemplate, never deviates, hungry for more by the crate

But, I could never be so cool with my poetry when I refer to me to talk about myself hypothetically
In the too cool third-person philosophy, it seems like a masturbating fantasy, can't you see?

Dingo's unstoppable skill with his right hand is ill, with the vaseline jar he fills
Using Viagra pills to get his thrills in the third-person gives Dingo chills
Dingo loves talking about himself as if he wasn't himself, just some personality shelved
Below "I" and above "me" Dingo comes quiet like stealth, rhyming to improve mental health, 'cause words are wealth

Now, don't get me wrong, I do enjoy masturbation, but the sensation would seem an invasion
In this kind of dissertation, in my mini third-person contemplation, it would just annoy me like a fresh abrasion

Dingo's gotten tired of how cool he appears, as his own name sears boredom to tears into the crowd's ears
Dingo can't face his own fears, so though it's queer, he's here so those who listen can cheer, make him feel held near
Wanting to be beyond Dingo, he goes to show how cool his flow throws you off though he knows
That Dingo is just a gimmick that grows like pinochio's nose with the fake side of his prose

This third-person cool is just a sham, a wham bam thank you ma'am of verbal glam
Kind of like the Son of Sam, a little crammed in my head to stand a third-person cool when I Slam

So Dingo's going to retire, or rather, he's fired... pulled out of my personality with mental pliers
Dingo will only refer to himself in the third-person when passing out fliers or applications to be hired
Because Dingo's finally uncovered and discovered, talking about himself is cult-like, like L. Ron Hubbard
So Dingo will no longer be his own unsafe lover and forever more use the first-person as a safer and more effective verbal rubber.

-David "Dingo" Bleecher