Spring

Twenty-Six and paralysed,
The paramedics were surprised,
Because no one thought to tell them
That you were too young to die.

You can't be young forever,
You can't be old too soon,
But as soon as spring is over
You'll miss its burst and bloom.

And it's endless operations,
It's your life in tea leaf dregs,
But rabbit's feet nor cannabis
Will give you back your legs.

Six foot six and paralysed,
Not so godlike now,
With my hand upon your shoulder
And the furrows in your brow.

You can't be tall forever,
It's not your height I miss,
But no one plans on getting old,
And no one plans for this.

And it's paralympic pamphlets,
It's wheelies and it's chin-ups,
And it's back to dreams of glory,
Of protein shakes and world cups.

Unconscious and paralysed,
And I'm still looking on,
Wishing it were harder
To work out what went wrong.

You can't stay drunk forever,
You fall asleep upon the floor,
And dream of scoring 'till you wake
To hear the news once more.

And it's endless pointless parties,
Cigarettes and beer kegs,
But even sweet oblivion
Won't give you back your legs.

Furious and paralysed,
Couldn't blame you if I tried.
If I were you I think I'd scream
Bloody murder 'till I died.

You can't stay cross forever,
And you can't find peace too fast,
But you'll never find a future
As pleasant as your past.

And it's your tears of frustration,
And mine of ignorance,
But neither grief nor fury
Will encourage you to dance.

And it's endless operations,
Cigarettes and beer kegs,
But rabbit's feet nor cannabis
Will give you back your legs.

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by Matt