The same journey. The same journey each day.
Every morning, a parade of sensation
on our odyssey to bus stop or station.
is imploring us silently – run away!
Daily we are welcomed by the same face
into a lonely world of stationery
Why do we live in this kingdom of grey
On the starting blocks of the rat race?
As each new season comes and goes
we walk blindly from Friday to Friday.
Spring exposes the blossoms of May.
The trees on the common change their clothes.
Without our days of work where would we be?
In the terror of nothingness – mere anarchy.
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