Along the lines it licks the metal
Windows darken through tunnels
You pray it fills with pretty
Often ugly overruns it with odor
The doors shut and some phone rings
Two stations later you're halfway through
someone-else's conversation
A child's hand pulls your hair
Each carriage gets carried away
Can you be sure which station
Which line to take
Each suburb crawling into your eyes
Inside the scales you look out of the snake
As it pulls it into another pollution ridden district
Perfume and dyes and paints
Metubesubo advertising troll sits and gulps your perception
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