It is the rhythm of my feet
That I hear as the rubber cracks on the pavement
Breaths hit the second note
Of the 4/3 beat.
The train throws in a high pitch squeak
As the commuters listen for the time to their beat
Clack their shoes to the low bass tone
Of the conductor hanging on the microphone
As each wheel then hits the ground
The sound of snoring adds to the sound
The percussion of the rushing right off the train
And the sound of people’s shoes go just the same
As they step out the station into the light
Over the bridge and out of sight.
The buses then purr to the ring of the bikes
The men then grunt as they shield their eyes
From the smog and the soot of the drivers-by.
The keyboards tap, the phones ring
The people stir, the salesmen sing.
The beat doesn’t stop as the cup of teas chink
The brains whir while the strategists think.
After work drinks while people rest,
Now time for home where they face the biggest test.
Nighttime falls, dinner eaten,
Arguments had and chairs to fall asleep in.
Time for bed while feeling defeated
Reset the alarm for the beat to be repeated.