Fistfights With Mr. G

We've all been rubbing shoulders
 With the man whose name starts with a G
 I seen him round before
 Fairly often now but presently
 I'm not ready
 I sense him size me up
 So I try to avoid his eyes
 I'll take him with one kick
 Between his bony thighs
 I'm not ready
 Her stay was short, her kids
 Were left without her maternal light
 This happens often
 But it never sits quite right
 See, why you come for those
 Who did not know what they had coming
 And why you pass all those
 I would swear that did?
 I held my grandpa's hand
 While you took him for his hardest ride
 As his last breath filled the room
 His horse rode in
 It was his time I know
 But some things I just don't understand
 Would it be fair to send
 Pretty invitations?
 We've all been rubbing shoulders
 With a man whose name starts with a G
 You just might take me but
 You'll still be sore between those thighs