Hit me,
and get all your weight
behind the punch.
You better make it count,
I’ll tell you what.
Hope to God
that it lands
flush upon my chin
and I go down,
hard,
and don’t get back up.
There I go again,
taunting the day.
I screamed up at God,
“Come do your worst!”
It turns out God’s
got nothing on me.
When it comes to pain
and suffering,
we’re our own worst enemy.
Took a long time to realize
that I was the one
calling in the strikes.
For some dumb reason,
I keep on
getting back up,
over,
and over
again.
Fate didn’t destroy me,
God didn’t curse me,
and I didn’t ruin myself.
You think I might have stopped
trying by now.
Maybe something else
will come along,
and finally
I’ll stop
calling all the punches.
Man,
I’m getting too old and slow.
If I’m not careful,
one of these times,
life’s gonna land a blow,
and down I’ll go.
Duck and weave,
duck and weave,
or maybe I’ll get smart
and see
the telegraph on that punch
from a mile away,
and I’ll evade,
and finally walk away
from all this pain.
HG – 2020
