The loud echo of the empty tram wagon
Of orange, navy blue and gray,
The content, sole female driver,
and me being the only one there.
Midnight strikes like the announcer my ears
Though it is not my turn yet,
I feel dizzy, feel the abundance of years,
Sinking, heavy, into the seat's mat.
Friday's veil obscures my perception
I could stay, could ride, for the hell of it,
But I want rest, that place, it beckons,
Pretend not to stumble, get up to your feet.
This place smells of nothing, the scent of pure space
Take it all in, the dust on the ground,
Then comes the halt, then the moment grows thin,
It sure feels nice when there's noone around...