by Kenneth Hoffman
(Morristown, NJ , USA)
Who’s that guy just clipping along?
The slap of his Nikes making a song?
He’s prob’ly the athlete who lives upstairs,
The one who keeps waving and getting in my hair.
I don’t mind you chasing me if that’s your style,
I run ev’ry morning, ‘bout a country mile.
But you’d better be smart and good looking, too.
Have a great car, at least an oh two.
I admit I like money, I can even be bought,
And if you’re real nice, I might try to get caught.
It’s not gonna be easy, I can run pretty fast.
If he wants to share my love,
I’ll have to see what he’s made of.
I don’t mind you following if that’s your style,
I run ev’ry morning ‘bout a country mile.
Now he’s matching my pace and I seem to be slowing,
What’s gonna happen there’s no way of knowing.
He’s not playing fair, the way this race was fought,
But since my heart is racing, I seem to be caught.
So if you’ve been wond’ring
Where we’ve been all the while,
We run ev’ry morning ‘bout a country mile.
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