Frantically hunting to find out a way
to render my frames out to video.
It seems like it's something that would've been done.
But I don't think that anyone's tried it before.
The moment's arrived.
The day that I've feared.
I've coded too much,
and I'm out of ideas.
Here comes the rain again.
It's always just the same.
Another day that I'll stay in,
Writing yet another game..
Typing away at the games that I make,
I lose sense of time, and my coffee gets cold.
I code for a day, then a week, then a year.
I look in the mirror, and damn I've got old.
You weren't here long enough.
We hardly knew ya.
But now we say goodbye.
To our wonderful OUYA.
Wondering quite how the gameplay will flow.
Closer to perfect, it's getting.
Figuring out all the things it will need,
As I tweak and I change all the settings.
The OUYA is over.
No more will it fight.
Time for the Razer
to do what is right.
Coding lots of little things
to help me on my way.
Making lots of Sprites and Levels
for the games you play.
Travelling far through the universe
I saw all the planets and moons.
The galaxies sparkled like glitter,
as their stars floated 'round like balloons.
The screen turns blue.
Rage fills my cheeks.
Another damn reboot...
Did I save all my tweaks?
Carefully crafting the things that I craft.
I wonder if there is a reason.
But then I remember how boring life is,
when I'm stuck in the house for all seasons.
The course of true love.
Never runs as is fated.
My bike doesn't either.
Its tire's deflated.
Just one bullet left.
A fight to the death.
I guess I won't make it.
I draw my last breath.
You stole my last heart.
And took it away.
Now I've no lives,
to continue my play.
A lot of working out was done.
The resulting game, though, wasn't fun.
An idea scrapped, a project gone.
Now to start another one.
I'm sat with my coffee, and I'm ready to work.
But "Windows is ready to update" it claims.
So I sit back, relax, and I watch it reboot
and reboot, and reboot, and reboot again.
My mailbag is unhappy.
There's loneliness inside.
"Why does no-one post to me?"
The pain, it tries to hide.
Early morning, wide awake.
I poked my hand into the mailbag.
Came up empty, once again.
The lack of mail, it made me feel sad.