riding on the bus
my brain is spinning like a kite
into the gusting winds of another night
and i fear things are no longer alright
my feet are stomping on the floor
but i'm not anchored anymore
i can't find the old front door
with no map to lead me home
into the wilderness i'll continue to roam
without an intersection to spy
winking with a helpless eye
hanging by a simple thread
awash with loneliness and unexamined dread
shot thru with yesterday's news
maybe dangerous with nothing to lose
(and) my windows are shut tight
into the gusting winds of another night
riding on the bus
wondering who is driving this thing?
more a servant than a king
at the mercy of the fates
no longer hoping for a lover who waits
shot thru with yesterday's news
maybe dangerous with nothing to lose
(and) my windows are shut tight
into the gusting winds of another night
riding on the bus.
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