I watch grown men trample each other,
while a lady in a white fur coat holds a sign,
Blood, Guts, & Glory.

I wonder if she's afraid
that her coat might get dirty against the fence
or spoteed with someone's carless beer.

Not many are wearing cheap black leather,
shoes that are all man made, and a pig suede hat,
but I bet they'd give up everything they have
for this cup of hot chocolate
and a perfect love like mine.

The field is covered in injured bodies,
yet the crowd keeps cheering on,
men not able to leave under their own power.
I can leave any time.

I just have to close my eyes
and I'm with you,
my body convlusing with laughter,
as my soul radiates love like the sun.

I hear the words, "touch down" as I'm thrown back
into this game of black and blue jerseys,
but I don't belong here,
where this referee keeps making bad calls
and hotdogs with ketchup and mustard
become full course meals.

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