I am a minute refugee;
a run in time,
the first to flee.
I break no stride,
won’t stop to breathe –
away in front
all past I leave.
The first to cross the post and on…
No eyes to see,
just legs to run.
The wind is fast against my ears
A blistered breeze
blows all my fears.
On and on
away I race
no tempo tries to set this pace.
I am a constant refugee
no where to stop
so on I flee.
You cannot save this, we haven’t time
I don’t even know, the problem’s not mine
Bring your ideas to the panel enquiry
We’ll hunt a scapegoat and write a story
With not enough hours left in today
To possibly find a possible way
Our enigma’s lost in convoluted drama’s
We’re busier than Barrack Obama
Weighted down by the rush to push
Never quite close enough to close, leaves
A feeling of ambiguous feebleness
Far from any routes culminating at Trust
Each of us in all life’s stations
Knows there’s more that can never be known
Moments die to a beat so sinister
Being busier than Barrack Obama
And right behind you
In your warm footprint
Another soul flairs on a familiar sprint
Repeating, reflecting, what you half captured
Still busier than Barrack Obama