The grey day of departure came, few words were exchanged.
On the grey day of empty goodbyes the sky´s hue was pure glare,
we´d almost arrived!
As I turned to say hello stunned merely by the curls and the flair.
Was this the bus to heaven?
Out they went across the carpark to where the terminal awaited.
If there was something I could do or say it was now long too late.
The sky seemed so dull and the motor on the bus "Brrrumed" futile.
Grease and oil, lust and love, the bus driver told me it was pergurtory
for the meanwhile.
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