another dollar fifty another ride on the bus the
seat left alone
is still warm the person next to me talks to me
as if he knows me
but that's ok i don't mind i look out the window
while he talks
on i do the usual try to figure out what these
people do.
in their own solitude some seem so plain some
seem so lonesome
lost depressed and true it's all inside of you.
wandering and waiting all your life for something
new to change you
but it all seems to turn in circles nothing's new
finding
and learning all you need is something to guide
you nothings
stimulates no inspiration
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