A new beginning, with journeys through the mist,
T’wards pastures new and goals yet to attain,
He scoured his book and jotted down his list
The only thing to do whilst on the train.
Those little things in life, they will be missed,
So mem’ry rips apart his tortured brain
A touch of mental health is never fun
So, pleased he lost his licence for his gun!
As window lickers pass the time of day
They rock both back and forth with rants of rage
Till other folk steer well clear out their way
Or sit aghast and double read their page
No eyes above those papers peer today
Across the silver carriage of their cage
No contact is what’s needed with this Nutter
If only these compartments had a shutter.
But surely social contact’s what he wants
Not sitting lonely floating as that cloud
He knows he should start talking, but he can’t
A single figure hiding in the crowd
With solitary thoughts he could ensconce
All dreams of men and women seen aloud
If one more wanker tries to catch his eye
He’ll stab the fucker. That will make them cry!