As I sit on the coach;
The wheels, they just keep turning ,
friends talking , strangers ignoring.
You see, we don’t exist, not to each other.
Although, you do get the occasional chatty soul.
I see cows huddled together.
You know, they say that when cows huddle together it will rain.
Walls on the hills, connected like road, lingering around up until the horizon engulfs their presence.
I see cracks over foundations, where nature fights the iron fist of man.
I see cars and people in them. Each with their own story. Their own lives.
Fragile and curved, rounded like balloons.
I see lorries, dominant steeds of the motorway.
I turn around and see a beautiful blonde woman.
For all I know, she could be my one true love.
Alas, I shall never find out , as I am much too timid whilst sober.
Which makes me feel sombre.
I see, you see.
I am not blind.
I see trees shedding their leaves.
Malting gradually, as they stand roadside.
Observing, patiently, for the rest of their lives.
© Alex Turner 2015