Thursday On Th Bloor Line
It's hell trying to think,
the welds do distract.
As the train travels over the seams of it's track.
In my head Howard swears, that he'll never be back!
My eyes follow a vagrant,
seeking the change that he lacks.
Another desperate attempt,
at another desperate attempt.
To save another days worth of memories,
I'll never get back.
I'm not too sure if I want them.
But I'm scared to forget,
so I pressure my pen,
to avoid the regret.
Thursday on the Bloor line
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