This is the next train and I thought the announcer said, to Dartmoor,
but apparently not because it's only going to Stanmore.

Doors closing and I'm closed in
and yet
always supposing I'm not.

Nike from Wolverhampton Wanderers is sat next to me sporting his tribal signs.

On the other side of me, a lady,
elegant, composed like a well written missive.

And the young man down the carriage wearing what looks like a skull cap, he looks like a cool chap.

My eyes do the dodgems watching these underground attractions
which seems fair enough to me.

trying to unpick the strands with my cotton wool hands takes time
and time's not on my side.

(It probably plays for Wolverhampton Wanderers )