Frost on the TMA strike:
Who drives this train I think I know.
His fat ass is not in there, though.
He will not see me walking here
Or feel my feet frostbit with snow.
My baby boy must think it's queer
To stroll so far when the train's so near
Amidst the blares and frozen scum
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his rattle a long shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the BLEEP
Of angry fares as tempers break.
The city is dank, cold with sleet,
But I've Santa's promises to keep,
And miles to walk before I sleep,
And miles to walk before I sleep.
His fat ass is not in there, though.
He will not see me walking here
Or feel my feet frostbit with snow.
My baby boy must think it's queer
To stroll so far when the train's so near
Amidst the blares and frozen scum
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his rattle a long shake
To ask if there's some mistake.
The only other sound's the BLEEP
Of angry fares as tempers break.
The city is dank, cold with sleet,
But I've Santa's promises to keep,
And miles to walk before I sleep,
And miles to walk before I sleep.
posted by Harkonnendog @ 2:23 PM
2 Comments:
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