A Man In the Servo

His weeks are fueled by coffee and confectionery
Reading news at his fingertips that he'll soon forget
His setting is flat just like the dreams
That were run over in the flyover pass
Yellow and cold like dead grass

Exiled from the steel jungle and trapped in a tiny dot
What's left of him tears at the seams
And lets the problems come and amass
Like sand fall on an hourglass.

He used to hate the emptiness of his full-time job
But each day he feels more akin to the desert's void
And the clouds that swirl like delicious cream
Clear his mind like polishing rust from a brass
Yearning to know what lies beyond this landmass

After a while, he left the servo without warning
His will restored and full to the brim
It was the ending to a long-winded boring class
Away from the station with his tank full of gas



Credits
Writer(s): Dario Bolzani
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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