What’s this with lines flowing
And, yet backed up and the sound of horns blowing.
Time doesn’t stop, no it doesn’t wait
This is the first drive while striving to not be late.
Merging of lanes couple the smell of exhaust
Must be that old four-wheeler, the one with the rust;
Heath hazards on the road should be outlawed
Some drive as if designated lanes are flawed.
It’s not the lane designation
It’s the driver’s use of aggression;
Flipping the bird and not the ones with wings
Preference would be turning up the music to sing.
What’s this with lines flowing
And, yet backed up and the sound of horns blowing.
Time doesn’t stop, no it doesn’t wait
This is the first drive while striving to not be late.
Each has its own space though courtesy would be nice
To use a blinker, some never think twice;
To cut over in front of the one now behind
Each having somewhere to be without wasting time.
Never-ending construction, detours, and such
Road signs and flaggers can be a bit much;
Could there be a single road or an isolated lane
To go down freely without stress or strain.
What’s this with lines flowing
And, yet backed up and the sound of horns blowing.
Time doesn’t stop, no it doesn’t wait
This is the first drive while striving to not be late.
What’s with the big rigs and school buses on the far left
Slowing down the flow …
So, now the lines aren’t flowing
Now even more backed up with more horns blowing.
Time doesn’t stop, no it doesn’t wait
This is the first drive while striving to not be late.
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