She came from her palace ground, she came to my cottage door. Her words were few, but her looks will linger forever more. The look in her sad dark eyes… more tender than words could be. Oh, but I was nothing to her. And, she was the world to me.
In the middle of her garden she stands all dressed in fine satin and lace. My lady is so cold and so strange who finds in her heart no place. And I knew she would be my bride. With a kiss for a lifetime fee. Oh, but I was nothing to her. And she was the world to me.
And now in her palace ground on a flower covered be she lies. Her beautiful lips are full over her sad dark eyes. And among the mourners who mourn. Why should I mourn her being? When, I was nothing to her, and she was the world to me. And how will it be with our souls, when we meet in that spirit land? What the human heart never knows, will the spirit then understand? Or in some celestial form, will our sorrows repeat it being? Will I still be nothing to her? Oh she is the world to me.
Why do I race my bike? It is a question that I consider often. Is it simply an outlet for my competitive spirit and a way to assert myself in the world? Or is it my will to always be better that drives me?
Certainly, these are factors but, more and more, I realize that it is the racing itself…
Good words on this topic, and I think I agree that this is why I ride as well.
There’s a lot of misinformation out there following Lance Armstrong’s decision to accept a life ban rather than contest charges of doping. Let’s correct some of it, and show you the man behind all of the myths. As we go along, you’ll see that allegations against Armstrong have been there not just…