Buried In My Bikes

Time is ticking down I’ve got eighty yards to go It’s the last game of the season The fans are sitting down Our mascot is a clown And I don’t even know the reason Coach signals in a play I get flagged for delay The defense has eaten my receivers My wristband is befuddled Bill collectors in the huddle My sports agents, they are all deceivers The center snaps the ball The linemen take a fall I am being rushed by the Hulk and the Thing I am scrambling about Trying to scream and shout While the running back is counting up his bling Before they kick my ass I fire off a pass And it is floating towards our end zone Suddenly I am standing there The ball coming in the air And I’m talking to my mother on the phone I want to be the hero The scoreboard clock now shows zero And the ball just continues above to float The paperboy starts to shout it “Everybody read all about it” As the headlines say that I am the goat The ball zooms over head Coach Lombardi now is dead The cheerleaders put their pom-poms away I remain standing all alone In the now empty end zone Wishing I could run just one more play My wife and kids have left me I have grass stains on my knee They now live with the winning quarterback I fail in my audition For the announcers position And revive myself from a heart attack My life is incomplete As I hang up my cleats My jersey number will not be retired I try going home To the place where I was cloned And as the high school football coach to get hired I drink myself to sleep Praying my soul to keep And wondering what happened to my life The obit is really small No accomplishments are recalled I am buried still wearing my Bikes