This is a tribute. Meant for the self sponsored. Plagued by a burning desire. Chasing a dream. Trading home cooked meals for peanut butter sandwiches and ceiling fans for camper shells. Broke. Exhausted. Determined. It's a tribute, to the fisherman on the run.
Two hands torn and weary eyes
Skin like leather from the sun
Worry that smiles can't disguise
For that fisherman on the run
No bluffing here, the sole is seen
Fisherman's lie won't get you far
The oponents' eyes are to keen
As they zero in on a familiar scar
Tough fishing is a common foe
Amongst all from time to time
Deciding whether to stay or go
Earn a paycheck or not a dime
While running his head is reeling
Risking it all on a hunch at best
It's a gamble on a gut feeling
Putting that instinct to the test
Motor muffles a million voices
All screaming inside his head
Too much riding on his choices
Should have a 9 to 5 instead
Then he could be at home tonight
Helping her tuck in the little one
Worrying now wouldn't be right
There's a job that must be done
With rod in hand he makes a cast
Something just doesn't feel right
There's no way its a fish that fast
Then thump! The line goes tight
Swift hook set does soon reveal
That there's a monster at the end
The line is screaming from his reel
As the fish's will he tries to bend
Struggle seems to go on for days
Giving it all he's got to get her in
Already guessing what she weighs
His biggest since who knows when
Eye to eye the two warriors meet
As he fights to bring her aboard
The mic picks up each heartbeat
While he reaches for his reward
Just like that she's in the boat
Slimy green symbol of success
But still there's no time to gloat
He must hurry to catch the rest
In twenty minutes his well is full
How quickly things can change
The storm of worries hits a lull
As his torn emotions rearrange
The boat ride back is not so bad
Tough decisions out of the way
One thing's for certain he is glad
He chose to run and not to stay
Loaded down he walks the pier
Bulging bag causes him to lean
Thinking this might be his year
A tingle runs through his spleen
Deep breath; he takes the stage
The scales will reveal the weight
It's gravity's pull that they gauge
But they'll also measure his fate
Numbers flash, the crowd erupts
He has finally reached the top
The check, trophy, and closeups
But for a moment he has to stop
Through tear filled eyes he sees
That a line has begun to form
A weak feeling hits his knees
Knowing this is out of the norm
There's still a prize he must collect
From each veteran and young gun
Their handshakes and due respect
All await that fisherman on the run
