Between here and the gate
Where a train waits
Ain’t waitin’ for no bus
Or lumbers past
Bodies sleeping in the streets
Train that is itself a derelict
Speed that is itself narcotic
Love that is itself platonic
Train of woes and new equipment
I don’t see you in your tattooed glory
But I hear you saunter past
My unencumbered gate
Keep going I can wait
Till the world comes round again
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