So many people, so many lives
So many strangers, so many knives
(I made up that last part, let's hope it's not true
I don't ride the c-train,as often as you.)
So many degrees of wetness of hair
So many states of sleep and despair
So many i-pods, devices and phones
Each person sitting so straight and alone
So many books, so many go-cups too
because on a c-train, ceramic won't do.
I wonder where you're headed, what your day will bring
I wonder if you'll count, draw plans or sing
And the day will wear on, and the sunshine will wane
And we'll pick up our articles, and hop back on the train.