where is the finish line in this long-distance race?

I've gotten well acquainted with the thought

of never in first place

and now the shot's been fired, we two are off

we're humming the same tune

so why not now? what have we got to lose?

 

where is the goal line in this sport that's contact-free?

I'd rather sit it out, but we both know you'd never let me be

and now the whistle's blown, the chips are down

and autumn's coming soon

so why not now? what have we got to lose?

 

a better play, a better brain

a better way to find you

a new relay, a new refrain

I'm still so far behind you

 

you put my heart inside a bottle that you'd spin

and I'd keep playing too, even though I knew 

that you would always win

and now the dice are rolled, the cards are drawn

and I'll be folding soon

so why not now? what have we got to lose?

 

should I go for the straight shot, or should I stay in the corner?

even now I haven't learned that this is where the trouble starts

you would think after all these years that I'd learn not to drop the ball

why can't I get a hold of myself?

why do you keep coming back to me?

©2019 jon fuller

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