|
Thank You, Come Again
|
IP:
as the December wind blows, it gathers the cold of the snow
jetstreams the ethereal cold of the white blanket straight to my bones..
I look at the bleak sky unsure of the night slowly arriving
striving to contemplate the events ahead, forget those behind me
only tonight exists now, the ominous future awaits
so does my fate, and the other men who patiently wait
for something more than the norm, a glimmer of greatness unparalled
glory for ages yet a few minutes where we will be haraled..
as kings to come, princes, Gods among men's fragile ranks
Olympus would bow as we ride through the streets where the faithful await
Yet, why do I ponder it all.. Can I not just let things be?
white encompasses all I see, the snow hugs the ground lovingly..
as if its were its own child, all the while afraid to release
to the cold world yonder, beauty pitted against the brutality to come
injury, pain, death in some cases, a battle fought since before my time
ancestors gave their bodies for their cause, put body and soul on the line
But is the Great Triumph meaningless, the battle the mere game it seems
Fought with relentless passion instilled by those behind the scenes..
just to put on a "Show" they delight with our triumph and toils
breaking news, headlines, laugh as we suffer immense losses and tempers boil
but don't they just provide me with a means to simply survive?
don't they give me a "productive" "activity" to channel this anger inside
a chance to escape my background, avoid crime and poverty
recieve an education, something foreign to all those around me
opportunity knocks, and this is my one chance to jump the ship
win State this one night and prove I'm worth the D 1 scholarship
I could change it all. buy a car, don't walk to school in the snow
I could buy my mother a house with a yard, some brand news clothes
Live the American Dream and escape this Nightmare at any rate
Even if they use me for the game, I need to escape
my stomach turns and I retch, nervousness has the best of me
Twenty minutess to prepare, to view my opponents as bitter enemies
my ambivalence is clear, the harships of football are poison to me
yet I can't give up n my one chance or abandon the comraderie
I slowly walk back, careful not to slip on the white landscape
my cleats crunch as I fiddle with my buckles of my chinstrap
Take my place among the team, empty my mind as I stand in line
Just another nameless place playing under the four lights in the sky
|