My ride is late
and in the offices they do smile
do they not and laugh to the bank?
The gates have fallen
and are locked open
and I strive to unbelieve
in my pinky
more than all the seas of mustard
Where is my promised ride
certainly no me
few understand
or care to look
and I am envied
cause my bookbag is light for being so heavy
while coins accumulate on the kitchen table
my ride is on time
scheduled in subconscious.
Saturday, October 24, 2009
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