A dime on the floor is dirtier
than a penny on the table
Another race that's only run
By who is young and
Who is able, and
It's hard to differentiate
Who is *******
in a stable
As all our backs are sore
And our losing legs are shameful, but

Let it not discourage thee, thou, or
You
There's a faster racer running
Passing, beating without shoes
There is no flag attached
No podium or pew
Just some blood
Some wood and ash
Running through and through

There is a sun
And it rises
And further,
The world still spins

We run around it for
Gold and prizes
But our own strength
will never win
it.