Twer' the night before John Dick
And all thru the manor
Not a salt tab could be found
Just remants of powder
The shoes were piled
In the basement in boxes
Some missing inserts
And the others had rocks in
I looked at the fuel belts
That were still in the package
I won't need those things
There just extra baggage
I pulled out the duct tape
Said your my best friend
You'll cover my nipples
Might use you again
Hey Adidas, hey Asics
I said in my head
Can you pound down the trail
Beat Egnarski again
When all of the sudden
It dawned on me then
The Dick's not a race
It's a run with good friends
There's chili, there's brownies
There's beer and there's soup
It's a primitive trail run
I might even poop
I'll see you tomorrow
Fifteen bucks in my hand
And before I forget
Someone please bring the Hamm's
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