You drop me off at my place.
And then you drive to work.
Thinking of your lovely face could drive a boy berserk.
But I'm not going there today.
It's not written in the sky.
Lunacy's on holiday. I shipped her off. Good-bye.
I am sending farewells
to habits of no use.
I bought them one way tickets
for the last caboose.
Headed toward Exctinction
the train is leaving now.
The steam begins to whistle.
The conducter wipes his brow.
