Time for the final bout. Rows of deserted houses: all our stable mates are highway bound.
Give us our measly sum: getting the air inside my lungs is heavenly.
Were starting out with nothing but crippling doubt.
Well rest easy (justified)
Ive suffered a swift defeat. Ill endure countless repeats.
The gift of memory is an awful curse,
with age it just gets much worse.
But I wont mind.
