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Practicing Progress
True flags wave goodbye
ARound the trenches
Dug within the earth of me
Trying to practice just too hard
Practice makes sweat
Practice makes pain
Drip from your hair
Practice is only perfect
When I am pushing up daisies
But a road to perfection
Is but life's pull-up handle bars
At which I dangle from
A weak rope
A pale flag tires down the fight
To let all the apples rot
In the lawn
And just wait for the lawnmower
To take it all away
And chop up their smooth faces
As I lean on the crutch
To lend a perfect hand
That's practiced through progress
It's a simple process
Practice is a perfect way
To make life progress
Practice isn't perfect
But it's the next best thing
