Over 16,529,287 people are on fubar.
What are you waiting for?
Have you ever watched kids on a merry-go-round? Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight? Or gased at the sun into the fading night?
Do you run through each day on the fly? When you ask,"How are ya?", do you hear the reply?
When the day is done, do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head?
Ever told your child,"We'll do it tomorrow."? And in your haste, not see their sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die? Cause you never had time to call and just say,"Hi"?
When you run so fast to someone ya miss, half the fun of getting there.
When ya worry and hurry through your day, it's like an unopened gift thrown away.
Life is not a race,
Do take it slower,
Hear the music,
Before the song is over....
Sister Biker! Sister Biker, come ride with me.
She doesn't even look as she passes me by.
Sister Biker, Hey! Sister Biker.
I throttle up to catch her, but she disappears over the next hill. When I see her next she is taking on fuel, so I pull in to top off myself.
Sister Biker, I mean you no harm. She gently takes my hand and places it on my heart. You are as the road we travel, wild and free. As the eagle soars the winds in search of prey, we ride the roads in search of freedom. She turns away, then turns back and gently kisses me on the cheek.
Sister Biker, wait Sister Biker.
I see your pain. Pain from a Man who says it's Love. The searing punch to the face, the stinging words just before, the piercing looks just after.
Sister Biker you are Love, You are Home, You are Freedom. I give you respect to take where ever you may roam. I reach to take her hand but she is gone.
Sister Biker, ride Free until we meet again.....
I ride on......
When I look back on my life nowadays, which I seem to do, what strikes me most forcibly about it is that what seemed at the time most significant and seductive, seems most futible and absurd.
For instance, sucess in all it's guises; being know and being praised; ostensible pleasures, like aquiring money and seducing women, or traveling going to and fro in the world and up and down in it like Satan, explaining and experiencing what ever Vanity Fair has to offer.
In Retrospect, all the exercises in self-gradifaction seem pure fantasy, what Pascal called, "licking the earth"
