A winter's morn
The sky's polychrome
And I should be upsprung
Left right left
Right left right
Chill air should sear my lungs
I slide out of bed
I stumble down
Past my Pontiac
My treads on glass
I'm slow as slow
But feeling crackerjack
Neck and neck with my supine shell
This footrace more than just begun
Virgin snow solicits my shoes
So why am I lying here stunned?
A level line
In blear taupe room
Down in the catacombs
I've overslept
And I've resigned
Another run postponed
Neck and neck with my supine shell
This footrace more than just begun
Virgin snow solicits my shoes
So why am I lying here stunned?
At night I have these recurring dreams where I can't move
And by day there are these recurring scenes where I don't move
Now, I recall seeing on a framed excerpt on a wall
In the former city of North York that said
That human bodies were meant to move
And that made perfect sense to me
Perfect sense to me, so why am I still lying in bed at 4:45 a.m.?
Lie-abed
Why have I not run
Your life has more than just begun
Why have I not run