It seems we get our exercise without moving at all
Running off at the mouth and being driven up the wall.
Jogging our memory, beating about the bush
Back stabbing - infighting, we shove and we push.
Flying off the handle, hitting the roof
Breaking the rules, twisting the truth.
Blowing our trumpet, pushing our luck
Loosing our grip and passing the buck.
Bending over backwards, 
breaking with convention
Grasping at straws, 
Snapping to attention
Changing our minds 
to keep up with the times
Heading nowhere, ignoring the signs.
Nose to the grindstone, shoulder to the wheel
Hand to the plough, digging your heal;
Lending an ear, thumbing the nose
Pulling a leg, striking a pose.
Words work overtime going through the motions
Fits of verbal fitness betraying our emotions.
Figures of speech create confusion
Jumping to conclusions.
Running around in circles with our feet in our mouth
Blimey what a north and south!
A marathon of words assault the head
It must have been something we said.
The sound slips from our lips any way we choose
It's our language after all, so why not abuse it?
Cleaning Out The Garage, 2002  -Keith Newman (C)
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