The feeble-minded will still be taken advantage of.
The middle class will still be impelled to look downward,
The boxcar will only be a memory,
fading in the distance.
The peddler will forever be knocking on the backdoor.
Someday, my princess will come.
I can play around, and laugh, all I want.
All I need is more
In between trains,
my sight transcends clarity.
The stiff-fingered boy
The old man shakes his head
The thought moves on,
as a ticket is punched.
I can play around, and laugh,
all I want.