I am the thoroughbred at the gate
I cannot control or contain myself
Flesh and bone held together only by metal
I am dieing quickly and I am dieng slowly
My heart is racing
My eyes are wide
I am not able to hold this anticipation any longer
Jet fuel seeping out of every pore
I no longer am able to touch the earth
Have I used my fuel before it was time
I do not know I cannot think
All I see is metal and raceway