It’s bin a long time, we had a good run,
had a few fights, had a whole lotta fun.
But we’ve passed the racepin, drifted apart,
time to lay a new flutter, too late to restart.
We rode out the hurdles, against all the odds,
defied the deft bookies, laughed at the Gods.
Didn’t stumble or fall, never broke pace,
the ends was the means: Winnin’ the race.
But the glory and fame, is too short and sweet,
after racin’ our hearts out, we’re dead on our feet.
There’s no honour in cheatin’, no valour in crime.
We gotta go our sep’rate ways, while we still have the time.
At the start, when you’re off, when you’re pushing the gates,
you don’t feel the crop’s sting, got your mind on the race.
But the harder the going, the longer the chase,
the keener the switchin’, love turns to hate.
©2.8.2019 Andrew Robert Chapman