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every noise i heard sounded like the bus
A group of men saw me once
They had a Jeep with tires bigger than the average size
Compensation for what they were not given from day one
I wonder if they blame their mother or their father
And so they stood on the corner, in the dark of the night, with the air thick and chilly with a moisture they could not feel
And I walked by with not a care in the world
No care for their world
And yet they became this poem
Though they did nothing to deserve it.
