Blood races down the window

Keeping pace with the rain

Head against glass I rest

With a shot, a second of pain

A bitter peace I must confess

Slouched cold, dead on a train.


Body cruely shifts as my pockets are robed

Not a ouch of guilt, not a second glance or sob

Not a hesitation nor a evil grin

What a evil bitter world we all live in.


It seems like hours yet, no light to see

No ferryman to pay no savour for me

This train I will haunt indeed, indeed.