Another Gloomy Monday.
Good morning. It's been a while.
Rain inside the taco bus.
I thought trains only stopped at the station.
They don't stop to choose.
We've reached our crossroad.
So have I.
But the train is at a halt.
Goodnight.
At least we moved.
Drizzle.
Drop.
Why has it stopped?
Perhaps the Rain will pause too.
It makes more sense to me.
Dim lights and dusty tunes.
Nobody home to greet me.
The pressure makes the whistle blow.
It presses.
Mostly on my heart.
What do I want?
What do You want from me?
Maybe wanting isn't important.
Just pull the lever for me.
If I do, I'll miss the Train.
Trains are dangerous anyway.
I can walk.
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