Hail the prince of midnight flight.

In the shadowed forums of the Bayou, where tigers prowl and roar,
A gladiator’s whisper stirred the blood upon the floor.
From Oxford’s rebel camp he came, that sly and silver-tongued Lane,
Kiffin, breaker of oaths, bringer of sweet pain.
The Colosseum of the South…Death Valley…thirsted for its king,
The purple legions chanted low, the golden banners swing.
Across the Mississippi’s vein, the scorned in red and blue
Cried treason to their fallen god who once their laurels knew.
Behold the traitor’s entrance, cloaked in night and LSU gold,
The internet rebels howl, betrayed and overbold.
Their emperor abandons throne for greater, fiercer wars,
To lead the Bengal host where once he scarred them with his scores.
The ghosts of Sabans past look down from marble arches high,
And grin beneath their visors at the chaos in the sky.
For Lane, the lanista bold, has switched his colors twice,
And turned the SEC into a circus of vice.
O Colosseum of the gridiron, let the Tigers now be loosed!
Let helmets clash like gladius, let quarterbacks be juiced!
From Oxford’s ruined amphitheater to Baton Rouge’s embrace,
Kiffin strides the tunnel’s dark, a smile upon his face.
Hail Kiffin, hail the turncoat, hail the prince of midnight flight.