They sit on the school bus
The wheels turning
Around and around they go
Each one a face in the window
Different memories
Different thoughts lay behind
Those faces that are canvas'
They pace down the street
Their feet marching to a unknown beat
Back and fourth
They go
Like soldiers in a marching line
All marching to their own beat
For their own war
Some are mercenaries
Some willing others unwilling
Being dragged back and fourth
They keep going and going
The man sits at the bus stop
The pale of the moonlight illuminating
His middle aged face
Cracked with harsh lines
Dragged down by the harshness of his life
His eyes filled with a remiensence look
There was another time
That a kindness radiated from his dark eyes
The simile freguently wrote it self upon his lips
Now his eyes are hard and cold
Like that of solid stone
Harden by years of life that had taken it's toll
Hardening him into someone
He would have never recognized
Many years ago
Now this is him
He has evolved
To face the world
And he goes
The kid in the desk
Scribbles away at the paper
The lines marked with scribbled letters
The teacher hands him the test
Marked with a big fat F
In red
The graphical lines of report card
Do not impress
He walks home
His head held low
His feet light with every step
The door goes open
And it has all begun
The soccer ball hits against the back of the house
The song has just begun
It hits again
The story has been written down
And it hits again
The key is pressed
The music played
