bus on its way
(The thoroughfare of people)
Wherever we walk off
There will always be rough
Often times smooth
But then again, it would be tough.
The bus stopped.
The radio keeps on singing
Fast Car by Tracy Chapman is now playing
Just like the tune and the beat
They are altering.
‘am goin’ to Batangas
‘am leaving Pampanga
Bulacan, Manila, Laguna, Cavite
Are on my way
Way up high, Way down low
Way side by side
Guessing how much will I pay?
The road is patchy
Even asphalt can’t bury
‘keeps me shakin’ quiverin’ vibratin’
Still, the bus is moving.
There’s a hump
Rocky, sandy, muddy, grassy
Any combination can be.
Really, roads are uneven
Places are different.
The mountains, the hills, the rivers, the oceans
The forests, the desert, the farms, the fishponds
These are not flat
Some are thin and some are fat
I go to a place where I’m on the peak
Flyin’ like an eagle in the blue sky
Then, I stir to a lay where I’m beneath
Swimmin’ like a fish under the aquatic
Seldom, I’m on the plain,
The horizon of the sky and the sea
no place for uneven
Where all are great, all are worst and all are fair
1 above, 1 below, 1 mid
I bet for the median
What a small possibility
Where in fact, it will always be an assumption
Forever be an illusion
That the road will never get flat