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Hours later red and blue lights flash,
I see my body with blood and head mashed.
The black zippered bag of death covers my brow,
I want to get away, escape, I know not how.
I feel cold with a deathly chill.
I cannot move and feel ill.
At an age so young, never thought I'd die,
Life flashing before my eyes, BS , I can't even fly.
Tears of relatives and friends fills the air,
The expression on my face is a blank stare.
Trapped in a coffin, don't know where,
Would I like revenge? I don't even care!
For all the good times that I've had,
At this time dying ain't half-bad.
The still of air all around me.
The hype of dying's not what it's cracked up to be!
~~Chazz 9-18-98
In this game you can't win,
There is no reason to play.
One way or another we're all in.
Just waiting for that special day,
When this game will finally stop.
But the different part of this special game,
You make your own team or keep the same.
Some players who can't get good teams,
Are loosing most all the time it seems.
In the desert, forest, swamp or snow,
The weaker are the losers we all know.
One player of the team wants the game to end,
His teammate urges "No!" with much time spend.
This player knows the reason for the game he play,
Of the game we take part in every single little day.
For this weaker, poor, poor lad,
The game's too hard, he needs a pad.
He makes the other teammates real sad.
His horrible skills make him very mad!
No matter how hard he tries, he can't seem to win,
Using all the energy in his body, he's getting thin.
'Cause in the world of solids he is a plaid.
Different to others he does believe.
He isn't the pitcher but needs a relief.
Tired of the pressures of the game,
He wishes not the win or any fame.
All he wants is the game to soon end,
Now very easy he gets offend.
Keeping it internally the pressure will build,
The game will soon end for this loosing guild,
He will then finally be truly happy,
Wearing orange shirts and feeling nappy.
This sport to him is very lame,
Is not the winner's circle all the same?
~~Chazz 11-15-98
The Early Bird Gets The Worm...but the second mouse gets the cheese.
No Shit Sherlock...Keep Diggin' Watson
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