another dollar fifty another ride on the bus the seat left alone is still warm the person next to me talks to me as if he knows me but that's ok i don't mind i look out the window while he talks on i do the usual try to figure out what these people do. in their own solitude some seem so plain some seem so lonesome lost depressed and true it's all inside of you. wandering and waiting all your life for something new to change you but it all seems to turn in circles nothing's new finding and learning all you need is something to guide you nothings stimulates no inspiration