Bloody men are like bloody buses -
You wait for about a year
And as soon as one approaches your stop
Two or three others appear.
You look at them flashing their indictators,
Offering you a ride.
You're trying to read the destinations,
You haven't much time to decide.
If you make a mistake, there is no turning back.
Jump off , and you'll stand there and gaze
While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by
And the minutes, the hours, the days.
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1 comment:
Wow! I like that poem. Ain’t it true. But in the end I like traveling by bus because you can always see some interesting stuff (if you know what I mean). I have also once heard that it is better to be in love than to be loved because in the first case you control the situation. In the second, however, you never know what my happen. Kisses!
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