The Track

And I hate that you assume,

That just because you ran past me,

And screamed in my ear,

That you're somehow better.

I have assumed nothing of you,

You make a good hit,

A nice kick,

And I compliment you.

I show every aspect of kindness,

Politeness,

And you take advantage of it.

I can't take it anymore.

I don't want to fight you,

I won't fight you.

But I'm just saying,

I won't take it anymore.

I'm going to go down to the track,

And I'm gonna' run.

You don't like it?

I don't give a damn.

I'll hit the track,

And I will run.

And I will test my endurance how I see fit,

I'll put forth the effort I want.

You wanna' chuck a football at my head?

Fine. I'll bat it away,

I'll dodge,

You'll miss.

But I'll keep running.

You wanna' hurl a frisbee at my head?

Fine. I'll duck,

I'll catch it and throw it back.

But I'll keep running.

I do not doubt that you could beat me,

If the thought were to prove a point.

But I put my heart into this every day,

On TWO levels.