Moresby Promise in your Face...
A Poem
Engine revs
Benzene burns
Piston explodes wheels turns
Gear changes, wheels paces
Fears constant, feeling content.
In the rear view mirror
You're ontop of your game
Tyre grips the tarmac
Nostalgia hits you
Wishing to beat your chest
For you've done your best
Not long ago you were only wishing
Now the wheels Spinning
For you've done well
Winding your window down
Down the winding corridor
Rushing air hits you
Crushing soda cola cans
Reality hits you!
Somebody gotta sell empty cans for a feed
This is Port Moresby in your face...
Little less than what it promises
Be grateful...
Don't be not a fool!
