The air con is broken on the megabus

Despite being able to afford the train, I’ve gone most of the way back to my parents house on the bus. More fool me and my cost savings, but it’s still a nice way to see the country.

The air con is broken on the megabus

The megabus takes me home.
I am a scavenger, a glutton
For punishment of confined spaces
And sweat oozing armpits of
Strangers who by the end,
Will remain strange and turn stagnant
Perspired, or expired,
You’d have to prod them to know.

The megabus takes me home,
Past the fields and towns of England
Down the tarmac
Melted Wispa and warm coke
Sustain me
Through the pain of pins and needles
And the ratta tat tat of headphones
Expensive brands always
Money spunked on style of attire
Not travel.

The megabus takes me home,
But it’s okay because
In an hour or two,
They’ll be my Dad
Who’ll take me to the pub,
And my Mum who will fuss and hug
And be hugged in return
By a son grateful
That the megabus took him home.

20130719-133352.jpg
The view from my window. England is beautiful in the summer.

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