RUNNING FOR DEATH
I run this final marathon backwards if I can,
holding my head in my hand and watching out
for neighbors on the lam. I haven't seen them before,
and I'm not sure where they're at. It's an awesome sight to
see, these thousands of people shaking the bridge ever
so slightly ajar. Death, having undone so many, now just
lets them pass. We state it sincerely - this vapid cycle -
running for the inner circle where the over-25 crowd hangs.
A new beer in each hand, the young girls with their fellows
hang demurely from the sidelines, letting glimpses of
breast and buttock pass us by. Enchanted to say the least,
those forty-thousand year old ruins called Man and Beast
are last seen rummaging through darkened corners of
memory by the old Ben Franklin church - squealing kids
and silent adults alike in a reverie never seen before or since.
I run this final marathon backwards if I can,
holding my head in my hand and watching out
for neighbors on the lam. I haven't seen them before,
and I'm not sure where they're at. It's an awesome sight to
see, these thousands of people shaking the bridge ever
so slightly ajar. Death, having undone so many, now just
lets them pass. We state it sincerely - this vapid cycle -
running for the inner circle where the over-25 crowd hangs.
A new beer in each hand, the young girls with their fellows
hang demurely from the sidelines, letting glimpses of
breast and buttock pass us by. Enchanted to say the least,
those forty-thousand year old ruins called Man and Beast
are last seen rummaging through darkened corners of
memory by the old Ben Franklin church - squealing kids
and silent adults alike in a reverie never seen before or since.
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