The need to be quick,
A desire to be agile and smooth,
Able to out run a serial killer,
And feel the thrill of the air zipping by.
Give me that feeling,
The be faster than a jet or light,
Let me feel the air skim my skin,
And let me fly without leaving the ground.
Speed is my personal pot,
The thrill is my selective Samuel Adams,
I have the strangest addiction,
To feel my heart race with each second.