The Banks of the Bilubee Blee

Back in the Banks of the Bilubee Blee, I once had an old man say unto me:
"Son, you're a loon, you simply can't do; you've gone quite daft, deranged through and through."
I looked at the man, his eyes meeting mine, and I calmly explained I was fitter than fine.
I was waiting for what was meant to have been, relishing regret and sustaining sin.
I knew where I was, which was better than he, for he'd never been to the Bilubee Blee.

The old man went mad, my sanity in tact, like I was the culprit who'd broken the pact.
"You fool, you nut, you crazed psychopath! Why am I the target of your joyous wrath?!
Who are you, why are you, what can't you see?! You're the worst of us all, not better than me!"
I sat on my head and gave it a thought, and told the old man what my sane mind had wrought.
And there it was that I told my story, above the Banks of the Bilubee Blee.

"I am the Recaller, the Reaper of Rhyme, A Crusher of Corruption and Creator of Crime.
I arrived from an Area of Alasatian Alert, a Haven of Helutia, a Hollow of Hurt.
My goal is quite simple, a wish and a dream; I'm quite all you see, so much more than I seem.
I will achieve that which can't be done, to do all of nothing and have the fight won.
You simply see the secession and fight for the fake, I lead the leaders and withstand the wake.

I am the Precursor of Palpable Prayers, A Doer of Deeds and Denouncer of Dares.
I lust for the Land of Lamlulian Lakes, near the Shores of Saseeka, Sanctuary of Sakes.
I bring with me my trumpet, my harpoon and horn, to return to a land in which I was born.
Fear me you should, Regret me you will, For I'll make you my master, your life I shall fill.
I'll cast you my curse and you'll pursue the prize; you'll dilute despair, lampooning with Lies.

I am the Taker of Tortuous Tales, A Giver of Graves and Grower of Gales
I come from the land of Frafefeulotic Fire, on the Isle of Indulaus's Industrious Ire.
I'll throw you my line, and you'll jump the raft, for I always destroy each one of my craft.
You're in the way, and I can make no deal; For I need to find the fake in the real.
I lurk for my love, who is making for me, down by the Banks of the Bilubee Blee."

The old man only shook, his confusion pronouced, and on that oppurtunity lunacy pounced.
He ranted and raved, he laughed and he cried, and it just so happened the insanity died.
For he saw the Truth and stood down in awe; Lies were the culprits; Reality Law.
My love did arrive, my heart burst on sight, and that's when I knew that all would be right.
So I promptly went mad and drowned in the sea, there on the Banks of the Bilubee Blee.

Sometimes I recall, within my dream, that what I saw was darkness's beam.
The old man was not free of the crimes he'd not done, he'd not stood his ground, just turned tail and run.
But that was the future, I live in the past, and this is where my lot will be cast.
Oh how I shall hate my happiness here, for misery was maddening, with so little to fear.
You might still find me laughing at what can not be, Basking on the Banks of the Bilubee Blee.