Borrowed Time (the Race You'll Never Win)
Living on borrowed time,
when your happy isn't such a crime,
you forget when you have the power,
to count the days that grow from hours.
Life seems such a blur,
on you go no need to care,
when your sad its such a blow,
that you notice time goes slow.
For all that you endeavour,
you seem to think you'll live forever,
you carry on going round and round,
your feet never touch the ground.
Along the orbit of time you follow,
you consume but unable to swallow,
progress toward an unseen line,
you race towards the end of time.
You hear the starting gun,
distracted you forget to run,
overwhelmed in a complicated place,
left alone in your disgrace.
The sun never seems to set,
but yesterday you can't forget,
maybe the moon is grey with sorrow,
because it never greets tomorrow.
The days slip slowly by,
the nights just seem to fly,
its over before its begun,
you try to crawl but need to run.
You race to meet a point in time,
from the ridiculous to sublime,
but its a race you'll never win,
no matter how close to the line you begin.
There's no trophy for you and I,
for a race you run then die,
just a footnote on a piece of stone,
covered by weeds that’s overgrown.
© 2011 Mark