ONE MILE A MINUTE?
One mile a minute and my
belt comes loose? Is this like
in outer space? And what is
that anyway? You can marshall
your forces all the day long, and
still need commands from the
home-base. Sometimes they
come through like a song;
other times, just a rattle and
hum. Rather than drum me
out of the space-force, they
threw me into the sack-race
of time. Now I'm a Harlem
Globetrotter in a wheel-chair
league of nine. I don't whether
to run, or play along.
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