Fight
It will cold smack you in the face
No regard, no respect, just a hard, straight right
Now you're confused and staggered so you look to plead your case
But no one cares so you better learn how to fight
So put your 'dukes' up and start sticking and moving
Did you think or could anyone think you would be a pugilist?
A mobile punching bag receiving blow after blow but you ain't losing
You're standing in the big ring, showing your worth with powerful fists
In this ring, blows will accost you in the late-night hour
Rudely snatching your sleep and leaving ugly bags underneath your eyes
The next day you're in a fog with no zest or power
Trying to find reason or reasons for your seeming demise
It will grab you and place you in a chokehold
Just sucking the life from your chest
And cause you to spend lonely nights in a hospital where the corridors are cold
Even after you've been released and you return home, you soon find there is still no rest
So fight! Fight you must and will do
Endure round after round and pound after pound
When you stand in this ring, you must see it through
Spectators are watching with prying eyes, just wondering if you will go down
Copyright © Stewart Watkins | Year Posted 2024
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