Soft Grip Technology
Once there are tales that are told,
A thought came to be:
I'll find our tribe some gold so they'll be happy.
Once I was thinking 'bout gold.
It was a poor tough life,
Our hearts are getting weaker,
Dreaming one day we get the riches and no more we'll suffer,
For our meals we're eating seeds or drinking bitter liquor,
Never rich, and some just starve to keep this steady figure.
Once I was dreaming about gold
My brother told me,
"Don't go down to the mine, it will be risky."
Once I was dreaming about gold.
I knew about the mine, of all the dangers against me,
So I started crafting swords, prepared to fight the zombies,
An ore that is so shiny will always motivate me,
'Cause only those that really care will ever really worry.
Once I was sent to find gold,
My quest was foretold,
I'll go by morning sun although I'm lonely.
Once I was sent to find gold.
Now onward to my goal, hope this won't end in failure,
Even though with worst equipment I still fear no creeper.
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