Roads and tires
faces without traces
hundreds of emotions
I’m passing in a blur

Sitting on the corner seat
of a racing private bus
I’m flying towards my dream
inhaling stirring dust

Stealing silent glances
at the pretty girl next seat
I’m browsing through my chances
it’s hard to swim upstream

Stops come and go I guess
people join and leave
but knowing I’m alone
makes me feel free of me

It’s a path I must tread alone
without hundred and eighty turns
Yes, I’m flying straight for the sun
knowing I might crash and burn

© Pamuditha Zen Anjana 2011


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