The End of the Road.
Lance
Edward Gunderson you are,
A
cyclist renowned both near and far
Struck
by cancer, refused to comply
The
comeback kid, a hell of a guy.
In
ninety nine you blew the field away
A
feel good story, hip, hip, hip hooray
Shooting
up from thirty sixth to first
Support
team all perfectly coerced
Bassons
a solitary, lonesome voice
Intimidation,
your weapon of choice
You
were the best, no positive test
He
was disposed of, suitably suppressed
Was
Walsh the only one slightly suspicious?
He
went after you, your troll auspicious
Though
you used libel to muffle his grail
He
fought the good fight, destined not to fail
Paul
Kimmage too you tried to oppress
Frankie
and Betsy heard you confess,
Your
lawyers gambit, make threats and harass
Such
underhandedness showing your class
Emma
O’Reilly, a mule for your wants
Distraction
driven by your toxic taunts
She
blew the lid on your evil scheme
If
you dare to sleep, you’ll never dream
As
you confess to Oprah, gone the cheers
I
watch for chameleons crocodile tears
A
vicious cheating performance enhancer
Paul
was right, you were the cancer.
Due to circumstances, this is my first poem in four months. I've been fascinated by the whole Lance Armstrong story for a while now and with the impending Oprah interview this week I thought I'd throw together a few lines.
I suppose my dormant fascination with this subject was awoken recently by the excellent 5 Live Sports documentary on the subject called Peddlers: Cycling’s Dirty Truth
