Packed cars,
With the dust trailed by rain,
Serenades only heard by the souless,
Spirits speaks of feelings unknown,
There's love and uncertainty in the air,
Excitement with exit wounds bleeding
Airs of nostalgic performances,
Reflections of sunsets on buildings
I'll never know the name of,
Even if I pass by it a thousand more times,
Windy destruction keeps its arms open to beauty,
While this train car creeps through the solitude,
Indescribable feelings,
So poets take to the streets,
With musicians creating soundtrack muses
And my stop is down the line.
Pretty quick