Born to sit at the dinner table
Bathing in the t.v light
Attempts at asking about the day
Overcast by puns and jeers
suddenly the stationwagon backseat
giggling uncontrolably
nauseating hours
only stopping to refill
The stations lights
glowing through the drizzle drops
anticipation accumulates
stale diesel lingers though
Each one of us dreams
and longs to stand into that dream
being the lead role
the person inside the costume
anxious excitement as the doors almost fall off
three children sprint toward the lodge
here was our sacred ground our paradise
despite the sulpher in the air
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