This Line
I'm so late for work; this line is just crawling along
With only two windows now open here out of ten.
Though silent, inside me, I'm wailing a misery song
and wishing I lived in a century way back when. . .
Far back to a time when a person might buy untaxed land,
When air still was clean and the number of people was small.
Neighbors were friendly and offered to give you a hand
and probably people did not need a license at all.
But now we have all become numbers that wait in a line;
And yearly you pay for the right to keep driving your car.
Yes, honor Big Brother, or you will be faced with a fine,
and nor does it matter in which of the states that you are.
I think I would rather be driving an old Model-T
than be standing in this frigging line at the dang DMV.
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