• That old building
    Dirty and crumbling
    Standing at the foot of an imposing city
    Waiting
    Waiting for someone to walk its empty halls
    That was once filled with life
    Waiting for a starting gun
    For the combined yells of racer and crowd
    Waiting for dust to fly
    To be carried by the wind and blown across the stands
    Defying time
    And holding dear to old memories
    In that old building

    I long to walk those empty halls
    To flex my heals at the starting line
    As many before have
    To be a racer
    To be a runner
    To be free
    In that old building

    By Catch_Phraze