Have a listen to this one.
a blocked artery, they say,
the cause of death on this artery,
running North to South
ferrying people from hand to mouth
the furring up of passageways,
as the alarm goes, the carriage prays,
but the train disdains, those let off get off,
make their journey other ways,
they’re late for mates, dates,
late back to their estates,
trying to make ends meet,
but one’s met their end and it ain’t so sweet,
so we sweat and we wait
and internally debate
whether a bus would get us home quicker.
but what’s speed when you’re dying
what’s a delay when you’re desperately trying
for there to be a later to be late for?
severe delays, the signs will read
and yeah, I guess that’s about right.
cause somewhere tonight,
someone’s life’s on hold,
as the roars of the tunnels
and the “stand clear of the doors”