Text for the Film

The following is the text for the film. Like I said on an earlier post the story was drummed up by Adrian Ropp, Shane Lewis and myself but Shane wrote the text.

The Snail and the Roadrunner

I woke up one morning ‘bout 12 years ago

And decided to go on a quest

To see all the trees and the fields of soft grass

That grow in the hills way out west.

For 12 years I’ve traveled out here in the desert,

I’ve crawled through the day and the night,

I’ve passed a bush and a couple of rocks,

Soon my home will be out of my sight.

(“Good luck, son!”)

Three years ago I met him ‘bout 10 inches back,

A speed-obsessed bird of a fellow,

With fire-red feathers, his hair all a mess,

His beak like a fire so yellow.

I’d seen him before as he sprinted by,

From one horizon’s line to the other.

He ran by so quickly that the force of his wind

Blew me half the way back to my mother.

(“Good luck, son!”)

That one time he stopped, I asked him one thing

I’d wondered all the times that he passed:

“Where are you going, Mr. Roadrunner, sir?

Yes, where are you off to so fast?”

“I’m a roadrunner, so I go everywhere fast.”

But that gave my question no answer.

“It’s clear you go quickly, but where are you going?

Please answer me that if you can, sir.”

His pause indicated this was the first time

He’d ever considered this thought.

When it came to knowing just where he was going,

It was clear that this roadrunner did not.

“Well I ran over here, and now I’ll go there.”

And that’s what he did in an instant.

“But what’s here or there, and why do you care?”

With my question I remained quite insistent.

“As fast as I am, I can go anywhere.

I’m as fast as my feathers are red.

Who cares where I’m going – I’m getting there fast!”

Then, having responded, he fled.

Every few minutes since that first day we spoke

I see him sprint by here again.

Not really caring where he is going

Or knowing quite where he has been.

He calls out to me, “Hey, look - can’t you see,

I’m still going fast while you’re slow!”

And “going” he does, which is odd just because

He obviously has nowhere to go.

He runs before thinking just where he is going,

His race has no finishing line.

You can’t win a race when the race has no end,

As for me, moving slowly suits fine.

Unlike the roadrunner, I’ll reach where I’m going.

Though the journey will take me a while.

For I have a goal, and I’m going somewhere

At about ninety-eight years per each mile.

(“Good luck, son!”)

Now I’m an old snail, but as you can see,

I’ve made it to green hills at last.

And I’ll tell you it’s better to get somewhere slowly

Than to simply go nowhere real fast.