around are men moving faceless
a blurred streak in the rush
a nonentity with no address
like the man sitting next in the bus!

who looks up and who sees
the lump of one moving mass
like a line of disparate trees
we're men sitting next in the bus!

boarders on traveling wheel
chained in creed and class
who does bother to feel
the man sitting next in the bus!

the world would have been so nice
had mine weighed lesser than us
but who would pay the small price
for the man sitting next in the bus!