Under the overpass we go.
Not likely to trail back
Beneath it. Nothing like
Clockwork, ready to jump
Beyond the bridge familiar.
Smelling offbeat air that’s
Not like the stifling breeze
In what once was home.
Under the overpass we go.
Not likely to trail back
Beneath it. Nothing like
Clockwork, ready to jump
Beyond the bridge familiar.
Smelling offbeat air that’s
Not like the stifling breeze
In what once was home.