I ran for the race,
through the four craze,
for the end grace
to the great prize
Anticipating to fail,
Cracking to excuse,
Looking as though its fine
as though quiting its prime
To the end grace, to the great prize
The pride it is, my rational is ripe,
All is glad, my decision is nigh
In the end, my fantasy indeed
Its like wishing to fly, jumping to try
Never a crime, always a dork
Ain't love end goals,
always moron?
Deep down the soul, I wish I could try
Wish to take back, all that was said
Pointless it seeems,
This is my life
Gerald
