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It's a
strain; it's a pain, but what is the gain?
It is driving me nuts; it is hard on the brain,
It is bad; it is sad, what more can I add?
For my nerves are all shot and it's driving me mad.
It's
tomorrow, today; I can go; I can stay,
But what is the rush? I am caught in the fray,
It is hard; I am scarred; I am always on guard,
When I think I can win I am beaten and charred.
It is
always a fight; I am wrong, I am right,
At the end of the day I am given a fright,
For the day is now past and the mold has been cast,
And another day comes with its trials so vast.
But I
give it a try, though I never know why,
And although I pitch in I am left high and dry,
And it goes 'round and 'round, never know where I'm bound,
But I'm always in search of where joy can be found.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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