When I March

 Ward off the cold's day virus with the warmth of my willGive me a Texas death sentence for everyone that it killsKeep my motives locked up in the frailness of the chaseChase the sacred moments that I keep at a thoroughbred's paceTrace the steps of synchronization like a bowling pin on the swivelCross my game over, like it's luck, with every ankle breaking dribbleKeep letting the dibble dabble of life freeze you up for some timeTime your smiles, time your weeps, time every time that you rhymeFor me, the grind is the journey - the pain is stones that I stepStepped, frogging leaps in the rhythm - patterned in the tears that are weptI cry a smile on my face in tune with tomorrow's potentialBecause the band will play on and hope is just too damn instrumental.Written August 2002 in Townsville, Queensland