Bowels of every life are made in this department
Think about it
The movement, the progression, the here after
From humans to dogs, trains on a track then the newt to the frog
This region is overlooked, so much can happen here
Its what makes us move, thrive on and even shed the odd tear
A ******, from some you don't trust, a night of lust
Needed by some, just a bit of fun, a kid hits you like a ton
For it is not just us who move on from this region
The engine, the hair pin, every corner a story
Keep the vehicle on track, life's journey does not lack
Those moments of grandeur that sometimes bore me
We rally on, just keep on moving, this machine always accelerating
Legs are running, if still not working, the brain always thinking
The depths of mortality, the human psyche, keeps on breeding
Even our mode of transport, the way we move, all has its engine
A beast that roars, if between our legs to a plane that can soar
Pipes that can fuel, carry this source to the brain that controls
Stephenson's the Rocket to the phone in our pocket
Machines that roll paper for the game that end up as our ticket
All have a base, a frame, what is known as the building blocks of life,
As we all stem from what is our essentially known as,

Undercarriage

JJB