Looking At Rucksacks

Deja what? here with no view into the underground back to the zoo. got a feeling that the glass in this ceiling is cracked and I'd rather break through it than have to look at it. Revisiting to solicit the facts about tracks and tracts I once pored over, but now I'm under ground. In front of me something that looks like a yeti sat next to a bald headed gent and I wonder if he ever meant to go bald. The postman well he's always sat there a comb over style in his thinning hair and the girl in the leathers don't know whether she's a spy but she could be. Mr horn-rimmed skims through the news more of the déjà what who's counting anyway, it's still Monday and that's all that matters.