Life is a fruitless distant race,
tiresome with little recognition.
We qualify to work, we work to die
and look to the future, and then look back,
endeavouring for the things which we lack.
Perhaps the problem is that we try
to make sense of life's true mission,
when this marathon is more of a chase.
There's no hope in catching our dreams,
they're destined to never be found
so what's the point in liking things
if your search is in folly?
Whey even attempt to be jolly?
This race is cruel and my muscles sting,
and if I even run respectably I won't be crowned
with the happiness that the finishing line gleams.
We spend many days being bored
as our eyes gaze without a glint.
We look to tomorrow to change
and put a smile on our faces
but I am tired of these races.
I want to revolutionise the range:
I'd much rather race n a sprint
for marathons go without reward.
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