The Aborigine Arcade
All the time the things I see,
First in my mind then in reality,
Physicality comes to me,
And pours my attention with energy,
Feelings nice and groovy,
It often seems to me,
That I often seem to be,
Like an aberrant aborigine.
If life was a pinball machine,
Where would we bounce around?
How many hits would we get?
How many points would we rack up?
Would our extra balls save the day,
And make us winners?
Our extra chances, second guesses,
Extra tests, how many saves of swift reflex?
How many bested opponents?
In the race against Time,
How many circuits do we wind?
How many contests can we find?
When the game is over,
Will we have it at last?
Peace of mind, when the test is passed?
