“I find it fascinating how games become metaphors for our interpretation of life” -BMCP
Inside, outside, all around the town,
Queen in shining amour, pathetic drunken clown.
Staggering in the ball park, running ‘round the bases,
looking for that pot of gold, avoiding all the faces.
Forgotten why you’re trying, too desperate for reflection.
Craving for your piece of pie, no desire for perfection.
Everyone’s your enemy, two masks for them all,
‘running ‘round those bases, brain rebounding off the wall.
But instead of sliding into second and wiping out those knees,
why not call a sudden time out and consider all of these.
You could go running straight for home, avoiding all the rules
or maybe boot it back to first and play for all the fools!
Or a beeline for the outfield, when the crowds gone for a beer,
then run around the warning track, it’s bound to bring a cheer.
Or simply just do nothing but sit upon the grass, then meditate and levitate
while the world runs out of gas.
Either way you look at it, home base remains the same.
Third base is just looming there, if you decide to resume the game.
No matter what you choose to do, no one really gives a damn.
The crowd will be most entertained, regardless of your plan.
But if you slide into second, forsaking those pink little knees.
Call a time out, dust yourself off, looking quite the being at ease.
Then concentrate on third base, regardless of the score
and keep one eye on home base, the other on the door.
Perhaps you’ll shake that demon, that’s wrapped around your soul.
Then next time there will be no questions when your ego screams – Play Ball!
