Sometimes in life, we prepare for a run
Only a 100 yards or so to go, no biggie
Have you seen him, with speeds like bolts, he is fast
Then it turns out, he turned up, in the wrong boots
This was his walking boots, or was it his running boots
Either way, it was the crawling shin pads, that was required
Rules are rules, you have to crawl, it is the rule
To see the end in sight, in arm's lengths distance
This should be easy, a run will do, I protest
I protest, stuff to do, a run will do.
I have too much stuff to do, busy me
Why not a run, to get this over with
Done with, done deal, gentlemen's handshake
Then I will be out of your hair
Then you will be out of my sight, o boy
Rules are rules, sorry sir
Yours was to crawl, sorry sir
Those are the rules, sorry sir
It is the subliminal line
That which you are to find
That the end is just ceremonial, didn't you know, sir
You missing the point, sir
The rules are the rules, yours was to crawl
Go get changed, yours was to crawl
So my friend, get down on you knees sir
Crawl crawl crawl, sir
Yours was to crawl, sir
Insightful! Inspirational!
ReplyDeletethis poem reminds me of my favorite Alkaline Trio lyric: "I can walk, but I will crawl there." Indeed, very much indeed.
ReplyDeleteviva la