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marnanelGo on, go up towards the light,
my escalator-sharing friend,
but save the patronising glares
you throw to neighbours standing right.
We'll reach the summit in the end.
The busker plays; we're out of chairs.
And soon, and soon, comes on the night,
when none can walk, and life will tend
to turn to temporary stairs.
my escalator-sharing friend,
but save the patronising glares
you throw to neighbours standing right.
We'll reach the summit in the end.
The busker plays; we're out of chairs.
And soon, and soon, comes on the night,
when none can walk, and life will tend
to turn to temporary stairs.
