The old punching bag
Dangling lifeless in the basement
Dented and bloody
Taken more punches than it absorbs
It can’t fight back
That’s not how it’s built
Throttled and beaten
As though that’s all it knows.
The chains quiver under every blow
Each bag in the room recoils
When the soundtrack comes on
Unleashing hell one wallop at a time
That’s why the bag is there though, right?
To flail then leave alone in the dark
So let the workout commence
And we will watch you tune it so bloody good.