The Eternal Escapist

From my solitary window,
I spy a thousand fenced-in gardens,
Lined up, row after row,
Side by side, yet none are friends

And sitting here I see
Abandoned playing fields roll by,
The wild grass set free,
But it’s lonely, the wind seems to sigh

The graffiti-covered sign
Of some random anonymous town
(Just another one on the line)
The inspector looks on with a frown

Head bent double
Slumped down, his uniform shabby
Has some trouble
With looking directly at me

He shakes his head
And with a lurching grunt stands up
Next to me, face red
Reflected eyes in an empty teacup

His voice creeps out
Whimpering, he begins to speak
Countenance full of doubt
So quiet I hear the carriage creak

It’s starting to rain
The clouds, nature’s favourite toy
Let the filthy water drain
Thoughtless words on the tannoy

But against all odds
I hear the man’s deathly little voice
It’s crying to the gods
And louder, says he hasn’t a choice
And louder, says he hasn’t a choice

He’s repeating something
As we pass by the rundown line of shops
He’s repeating something
As we pass by the yellow, spoilt crops

He’s repeating something:
That this is the train that never stops
That this is the train that never stops

I can’t deny it,
As I observe the endless monotony
It seems to fit
Life’s never-ending, confusing cacophony

But, with a little endeavour
I tear his philosophy undone
This train may roll on forever
But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun

The trick is never to go mad,
Escapism ain’t so bad