613
613 It's almost over now One more pull Smoke curls up These bright things swoosh past Shooting stars below It's almost done now Strangers in gaze As lights rotate colors And dance up ahead Nearly there now They push and shove Throwing coins at Buddha As He will bless them Crooks, chinks, apes all alike Sat in this monster's belly Hearing the crackling from their mouths As a familiar stench wafts about Two more or is it four stops I can not tell These heathen roads do not take me home
